


As the Red Sun Rises

by D_Reagan_Fly



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), alternate universe after E7
Genre: Almost redemption, Angst and Tragedy, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, Death, Kylo Ren Backstory, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Redemption, Multiple Endings, Pain, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Sexual Assault (implied/discussed) never shown, Redemption, Resistance is messed up too, Rey Needs A Hug, Separation of Parent/child, That's Not How The Force Works, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The First Order is messed up, Torture, War is dirty on every side, and pain, complete and utter failure at redemption, human trafficking/ slavery, more pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 43,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Reagan_Fly/pseuds/D_Reagan_Fly
Summary: Seven years after the events of Episode Seven we find the characters of the Star Wars universe much changed. Death. Tragedy. Heartbreak. Love and loss. This will hurt. I warned you. Life sucks then you die. Rey and Kylo have secrets...big secrets...um...I warned you. But it's worth it. The pain is worth it. :)





	1. Of Flower and Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I'm just another fanfic author looking for some feedback. I have this posted on Fanfiction.net as well. I'm looking for some fans and some critics; if you can be both that's great! I'm working through a couple novels and sometimes need a brain break that still encourages my writing development- and so- fanfiction it is! I didn't start out shipping this couple...but after writing their perspective for a while, they sort of grew on me. I hope they grow on you too. :) 
> 
> -D.

The sand swirls in the harsh wind as it is picked up and thrown by the desert man's boots as he begins the final stretch of his eight mile trek home. The last sun is finally setting and it's scorching rays finger his tall form with an almost violent love. His wraps are pale greens and blues, faded by the zealous gaze of the sun and darkened in sweat that he wears as a second skin. His back is straight and proud despite the heavy burden he wears strapped to his back, and the staff is his iron grip is more of a weapon than a crutch.  


He leaves a deep trail behind him of heavy, powerful footsteps speaking to the giant he might have been in history...but his eyes are that of a warrior long past his days of war. From where his dark gaze can be seen over the wraps across his mouth and nose, one might be able to identify a sandstorm of emotion; anger, love, hate, power, passion, and an overpowering potent mix of peace and exhaustion. Here the desert was man hiding from his fate, and here in the desert, he was at peace in the boiling heat of four suns and the grating sand a constant clinging to his frame.  


His trail is quickly wiped clean by the wailing winds and the desert man is caught up in the sands and winds as though he belongs to them and them to he. He leaves no trace or trail to be tracked by man or beast. He is a creature of the sand and heat, a creature of brilliant love and passion, but agony and suffering as well. Like the sun, an observer might find him difficult to look at, painful even, the torment paired with love in his eye is too much for many to bear...but like the sun also the observer might find difficulty in looking away, for the rapturous experience of watching the powerful brilliance of his soul so manifested in that burning gaze.  


But up ahead, coming to be joined with him in his trail is an answer. A desert flower, delicate and colorful standing in strength and dignity despite her desolate homeland. Looking upon her thin and graceful form wrapped in aged white cloths one might question whether the flower lived for the rays of the sun...or in fact the sun lived to touch the delicate petals of the flower and illuminate her precious face.  


As the desert man joins to her and they walk across the plain sided by side, it would be difficult to deny the fact that the sun lives for the flower and not the other way around. They travel as such in silence, both faces wrapped up tight and carry their burdens with mighty strength possessed by warriors of the same breed. Their exhausted pants dance in harmony, breaths wet and hot against their face. Her shoulder nearly brushes his elbow with every step they take, and one could scarce deny the fact that words or not they communicated to one another by their souls.  


The strength and comfort in the solace they found in each other's company speak in volumes promising they belong to one another in every way. They travel like that for another mile as the final sun sets in violent red sending crimson stains across the sand in beautifully morbid streams and now the last dying rays illuminate a path of two pairs of booted feet that are quickly to be swept away.  


Finally their journey has met it's end and they stand before the threshold of a ship that for the past seven years has been called their home. A broken twisted piece of crumpled metal with suns and flowers painted in brilliant hues by child's hand across the hull. And here he comes, the artist, a child made by the flesh of flower and sun, running from the open door to throw himself in his mother's arms, to tear the face mask over her shoulder—revealing the heroine of his world and the galaxy--and plant wet kisses across her sun browned face.  


Then he spreads wide his arms and leaps into the sky knowing full well his father will catch him and performs his unabashed love across his father's face as well, tearing the mask free from the desert man's face to reveal the face of one of the most feared men in all the galaxies, the harsh face of a predator split wide in a grin as he accepts his son's love and admiration.  
  


As the sun wraps a heavy arm about the waist of the flower, and draws her close to him as he hold his small son at his hip, they approach the entrance of their home unknowing that when the last sun that sets this evening rises tomorrow they will cease being a desert man and his wife. There will be no more sun or flower and no more father and mother.  


Tomorrow as the red sun rises, they will be thrown viciously back into the names and roles not owned or touched by them in seven years. Tomorrow the flower will be once again alone, the last of her kind.   


A single Jedi named Rey.   


And tomorrow her husband the sun will be torn from her strong grasp and trapped behind a dark mask to be hated and feared in his agony and solitude.   


A knight of Ren named Kylo.   


But tomorrow has not come and so the desert man holds his precious son tight and eats with his wife and child. Tonight the flower will sleep wrapped up in her husband's warm embrace and have beautiful dreams about what her son is going to be when he grows into a man.  


Tonight is all they have, and tomorrow is all they will lose.

*******


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll never know how much you've lost until you realize how much you had." - D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the procrastination, just now finding time to update! 
> 
> -D.

Rey wakes before her husband. She always does. As soon as the first thin tendrils of the first sun graze the planet her eyes flicker open. The clock set in her is trained from years of experience and disappointments, those who rise late, eat late...if at all. 

Her husband's heavy arm is wrapped around her waist and he's pulled her in tight to him, trapping her against his warmth and strength. She lies still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of waking up, and traces the veins that run across the back of his hand, comforted by the feel of his body pressed to hers and the deep warm breaths caressing the nape of her neck. 

Her eyes wander over to the sleeping form of their son who lies curled up like his mother and sleeps and on his side like his father. His head of thick dark curls is knotted and messy, sprawling out in dark twists across his pillow. He sleeps with a pout on his face like his father and has the blanket clutched in a tiny fist that he rests his chin upon. He's thin and long and healthy and Rey loves every inch of him with as much force as possesses the universe. 

It's quickly growing warmer as the First sun finally breaks the horizon and she begins to untangle herself from her husband's frame, quietly and gently peeling herself away, breaking into a fresh sweat at the warmth his body is giving off exaggerating the heat already beginning as the first sun begins to cook the sand and ship around them. 

He frowns and mumbles something in his sleep shifting ever so slightly, allowing her room to slip out of his grasp. She smiles down at him and pushes an inky black curl behind his ear. He was up late last night, she could feel his exhaustion radiating from him and saturating her bones though their bond even in sleep. 

He always stays up later than she, usually by several hours, sometimes working on their map or tinkering with one of the parts they salvaged, sometimes just lying beside her, holding her close and waiting for her to fall asleep in his arms. Then he lies there, she's sure, and keeps vigilant watch until the latest hours of the night and sometimes early into the morning before drifting off to join her in sleep. This is the routine they've fallen into over the past seven years. After their son has been put to bed they are awake and active for a few hours before she falls asleep. He always stays up late and she always rises early. 

It's hard to imagine it's been seven years already. She notes as she bends down to kiss away the frown on her husband's brow. It doesn't work. A pang lances through her heart as it always does when she remembers the fact that she can't kiss away all his pain and sorrow, and she must remind herself that she loves this man and his strength and passion and smiles... but also his deepest darkest fears and pains that she's only ever seen in the farthest reaches of his mind; as he can not, and might never, be able to voice them for the suffering they bring along with them. 

Again she kisses him softly, once on the sharp cheek bone and then leaving a soft trail down his cheek to his mouth. She feels the corner of his lips twitch beneath her own and sits back up with a delighted and triumphant smile as his frown melts ever so slightly. Perhaps not all of them can she heal, but some of them she can. 

Then she slips from the bed into the warm morning, donning her wraps and goggles. She slips her bag over her shoulder and snatches her staff just before she leaves the ship, glancing back just once to smile again at the sleeping forms of her husband and son. Her small and precious family. Her only family. The smile remains on her face as she ties her mask around it and steps out into the blistering heat of the earliest hour of the day and begins her trek into the desert to scavenge what she can. 

When she returns her bag is nearly half full already and she's grinning ear to ear with the bounty she discovered. She found a fourteen year old model of a transponder that might still be salvageable and can't wait to see what her husband will say. Her son is playing in the sand when she returns to the ship. 

It's a crashed old empirical Lambda class shuttle, one wing snapped down the middle and buried deep beneath the sand's surface, one lying flat along the planet's face and another jutting straight up in the air like a tusk, burnt and bent from the force of the crash and the constant beating of the wind. Her son looks up at her with a bright smile and thrusts a little tin humanoid figurine into her hands, 

“Look mama!” He grinned, “Daddy fixed him!” 

“Did he?” She laughed through her mask, “Well, your father's always full of surprises, isn't he.” She ruffled his hair and then frowned at him, “I thought I told you to pull your hair out of your face.” 

He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, “I don't like it up.” 

She raised her eyebrows over the face covering so high they hit her goggles. 

He gave a heavy sigh and submitted, “Yes, mama.” He frustratedly began pulling his thick dark curls out of his face but kept getting his pudgy fingers stuck in the knots. “It's not working!” He huffed after a few moments of struggling. 

“Would you like help?” Rey asked eyebrows still raised reproachfully. 

“Yes.” He mumbled. 

She grinned, though all that was visible was the delighted squinting of her eyes over the mask. “Come here.” 

After a few moments of loud protests and whines she finally had his dark mess of hair pulled back out of his face and in a secure knot on the back of his head, she'd braided it to his scalp on either side to keep it secure longer, maybe this one would last more than a few hours. 

“Thanks.” He grumbled. She chuckled and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead through her face mask, and suddenly he grinned again. “I'm going to find some more parts for Sue.” He informed her. 

“Sue?” She frowned quizzically. 

“Yup, Sur,” he held up his tin man, “Needs a wife. He can't be happy without a wife.” 

She blinked in surprise, “Where did you hear that?” 

“I dunno.” He smiled at her curiously, confused by her question. “I guess just cuz Daddy can't be happy without you.” 

She smiled at him again and nodded, “Well then I suppose you'd better find the parts to make Sur a wife then.” 

He dashed off on his mission and she watched him go, love and pride bursting her heart open. She didn't know it was possible to love someone so very much. Then she hauled her pack up again and strode up the ramp to enter her home. 

Her husband was digging through a pile of dirty laundry, frustration emanating from him in thick, tired waves. His own dark hair was pulled into a curly knot on the back of his head, although a few dark curls had already torn free to frame his harshly defined morning scowl. He wore his dark pants and had his belt tied loosely about his hips but wore no shoes or shirt. 

“Are we going for the savage look?” She teased, taking off her outer wraps, goggles and scarf, dropping her bounty in the entrance and appraising his bare torso. “Because I could get used to this.” She smirked. 

He turned to face her and gave her a half-hearted glare, “Can't find my shirt.” He sighed running his hands over his head to grab the knot of hair at the back, gripping it harshly and remaining like that; standing in the middle of the room shirtless, arms resting atop his head pulling his muscles taut in a way she very much appreciated, knotting and twisting them in fluid and firm definition. She let that appreciation hum across their bond and slunk up under him like a sly desert cat, a grin playing across her face. She placed a hand on his chest, admiring how powerful he was and tracing the scars that crisscrossed his sternum and rib cage mischievously. 

“Do you need a shirt?” She glanced up at him suggestively. He gave another tired sigh and instead of encouraging her advances he folded heavy arms about her and caged her against him, resting his chin atop her head. She was surprised by his preference to comfort over her earlier suggestion but complied willingly, wrapping her own strong arms about his middle and pressing her cheek against his bare chest to feel his heart thundering within his powerful frame. She frowned and ran her fingers up and down his spine gently. 

“What's the matter Ky?” She asked with a gentle frown of her own. 

He sighed again and didn't answer her, but she could feel uncertainty and nervous anxiety thrumming through the bond and pushed herself away, genuinely concerned. 

“Kylo,” She stared up at him suspiciously, “What's the matter.” 

“I don't know.” He groaned pulling back from her too. “I just...I just have a feeling.” He let out a shuddering, ragged breath. “I just... I know something's going to happen...I know I'm going to...to lose you...to lose... you both.” His voice broke and he pressed his lips together trying to reign in his overwhelming emotions. 

Her heart burned with his, their fear and love roaring like fire between them. She couldn't comfort him. Couldn't tell him it was just his imagination, that his fear had no rationale... but she wanted to. She wanted to kiss him and fold into him and tell him that they were safe, they had been for the past seven years...they would never be found...she wanted to tell him that he'd never lose her, never lose her son...never be alone, tormented, in agony...in the dark. But she couldn't. 

He was always more prone to foresight in the force than she, and he was right, there was a possibility that he would lose them. Perhaps he had sensed something stirring in the force. It wouldn't be the first time. There was a possibility that the Resistance would find them and kill him, or take her...the First Order might discover them and the Supreme leader might snare their whole family...or crush them all instantaneously...or somehow make Kylo kill her...or their precious son. 

She couldn't promise anything, she knew that...and he knew that... and their fear and pain and uncertainty that they were tormented by for seven years now was thrumming between them violently now, stormy waves crashing upon each other, dragging each other down to the depths of the darkest seas, drowning in each others own terror. Hot tears sprouted in her hazel eyes as she looked up at her husband and drank in his panic and fear, unable to do anything to ebb the flow. Finally she settled for just pulling him back to her again and pressing her ear to his chest, loving the comforting sound of his heart drumming passionately behind his ribs. 

She loved this man so very much it was painful. The strings connecting them were strong and fierce and tore at her organs and flesh like snares. This was her husband. The only man she'd ever loved in her entire life. The father of her child and lover of her soul. He was poetic and dramatic and regularly grumpy. His scowls were familiar and comforting and when he smiled she flew above the atmosphere in rapturous joy. 

She trusted him with her life, her body, her well-being, her son...she trusted him with everything that was most precious to her because she knew it was most precious to him as well. He'd worked beside her, and sweat beside her, bled, cried and nearly died beside her. He was her other half and she treasured his mind and his character, dark and savage at times and yet almost noble at others...he was always strong and emotional and passionate about everything he spoke or thought of and she craved his affection and admiration that he gave to her so freely. 

She wanted so terribly bad to tell him it was merely a dream, he needn't worry at all...but instead she could only hold him as he clutched her, the only anchor to his sea of emotions, and clamped her eyes shut as she felt his cool tears hit her scalp. 

“You still have us.” It was the only promise she could give him. “We're still here. We're here right now.” 

His breaths came in shudders that tore her heart in two and her body shook with the onslaught of the storm in his soul that poured over their bond. She held him until the storm stopped...or least was held back at bay. When she finally pulled away and looked up into his face he was more recognizable as himself and she thumbed away the remaining tears that were drying on his cheeks. 

“Thankyou.” He whispered, dark gaze burning into her. She used to fear the way his gaze tore into her and opened her up for him to unravel. But now she found it comfortable, familiar, warming...she had nothing to hide from him and he hid nothing from her. There was no shame in his tears and no shame in the way she couldn't stop shaking now. She gave him a wobbly smile he returned and brushed the tears from his face as he ran his large hands over her shoulders and arms, rubbing the trembling muscles beneath them. 

“Breakfast?” She asked, returning to her former cheerful mood like stepping into another pair of shoes. 

“Shirt first.” He insisted and she laughed. 

“Have you checked by Sai's cot?” 

“Sai's cot?” He frowned, “Why would Sai...” He muttered to himself as he knelt down to rifle through the various articles on his son's bed. She turned and went to the far corner of he room to begin preparing breakfast. Her attention was brought back to her husband as he groaned. 

“What?” she turned quickly to identify the problem. Suddenly her face split into a laugh and she threw her head back. 

“It's not funny!” Kylo insisted struggling to maintain glaring at her while she laughed, holding his shirt up to stare in horror and humor at the bright yellow sun painted across the chest of his only shirt. She turned back to her task, chuckling to herself as he forced on a furious expression and roared, 

“Sai!” and was answered by a shriek, 

“I didn't do it!”


	3. BNR4793f

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I have 24 chapters posted on Fanfiction.net but I obviously haven't been keeping up here! So here comes a D.-dump! Love you all! Kudos!
> 
> -D.

When Rey had been killed seven years ago, it had broken something in the spirit of the Resistance, and had shattered the last few scraps of hope Poe had salvaged through out the long and bloody war. They had been so close to defeat so many times before, but nothing had ever shaken them like her death. There was no closure, no burial, she was just...gone. One moment they had conquered and captured Kylo Ren and the next he'd broken free and taken her with him. Probably to sway her to the dark side or some other evil force user crap.

But it was Rey. There would be no swaying her. So when Leia had felt her absence in the force following the days of excruciating pain...they had known it'd come. The monster had drug her to the farthest reaches of the universe to torture her and kill her. Poe felt sick even thinking about it. She was only a girl... a child with so much potential...force or not...and she had been butchered for it. Poe had searched for her body for years after the fact, if anything to give himself a bit of peace...but the monster Kylo Ren had wiped the universe of all traces of her. They hadn't even been able to pinpoint the planet on which she'd died. Seven years later, Luke had gone back into solitude, Finn had left the Resistance all together, and General Organa and he had suffered on like they always did. Loyal to a failing cause a little girl had died for.  


Missions had become a much needed escape for Poe. A chance to focus on something so completely, he didn't have time to think of anything else. No time to focus on how alone he was or how old he was becoming. No time to think of all the friends he'd lost and how many more he might. No time to ask questions or remember smiles, nothing but a single purpose and a mission to be accomplished. So when the General had come to him with this mission, he'd gladly accepted. Just a solo watch, following the lead of some First Order chatter they'd intercepted. Just a run of the day. An observation and execution. His sort of deal.  


It had all changed when he'd found the x-wing though. A resistance fighter ship docked in a little alcove in the sand. At first he'd figured it was just a stolen smuggler, a few ships a year went missing, intercepted, stolen, stripped for parts. So he'd relayed to base that he'd found one and after confirmation had come forward to investigate further. Might as well, so far they hadn't intercepted anymore chatter on the First Order business.  


To his eternal surprise the ship was fully intact and well maintained. The sand had worn away at the paint but it had been well camouflaged and wasn't buried, therefore he had to assume someone had been coming back to manage it. That wasn't normal. No one stripped a ship and came back to maintain it. It was the serial number that he found, fully intact on the left wing, that stopped his heart though.  


BNR4793f. An eight digit serial that was seared into his memory. BNR4793f. The number made his blood run cold and his belly well with grief again. Seven years was a long time and grief could be buried and dulled, but reading that serial was like being instantaneously submerged in glacier water and it tore back the scabs like flame. This was the ship that Kylo Ren had stolen when he'd taken Rey. This was the ship she was stolen in. BNR4793f. This likely then was the planet she'd been murdered on. He broke out into a fresh sweat and turned from the ship just in time to double over and empty the contents of his stomach into the sand.  


When he stood up he was shaking, running a hand through his hair anxiously and trying desperately to even out his ragged breathing. He'd brought her here. Back to the desert. Back to the blinding heat and suffocating sand to tear her apart slowly. A little girl was tortured to death somewhere in this sand, by a dark menace in a mask. Suddenly rage flooded hiss veins and took over his grief and horror. He shook now with the force of fury overpowering his pain and turned back to the ship to search it for a clue. Anything to tell him where the beast might have gone so he could find him and slaughter him. Poe didn't care if he was one of the most powerful men in the universe, he didn't care about the force crap. He wanted to tear that monster to pieces and force or not he would find some way to do it.  


The ship's engine was well oiled and cared for, a tedious task in a desert world such as this. There was only a bit of sand in the gears and Poe would estimate it had been cleaned within the week. That meant that there was a possibility that Kylo Ren was still here. That would be strange, for him to stay, but not impossible. After his escape from Resistance prisons and murdered Rey, he'd disappeared himself, like smoke and shadow. 

The Resistance had no news on his whereabouts but assumed he was behind the training of Jae Ren. The newest force using puppet of the Supreme Leader. She was only in her early teens but had already laid waste to hundreds of their men. She'd brought down an entire fleet of x-wings single-handedly at one point. She'd only entered the battle two years ago, but they'd discovered the First Order was training her five years ago. Training her was the only reasonable explanation for Kylo Ren's vanishing.  


Perhaps they were training here. It would make sense. The only reason the Resistance had even sent one pilot here was because of some random chatter. There hadn't been any galactic warfare on this planet in over two-hundred years. Poe struggled with the emergency latch to open the hatch and gingerly crawled into the cockpit, careful not to disturb anything. There wasn't much...a drive with a map on it, a hand blaster taped under the seat. That was it. He wiped away the dust on the dash and squinted at the meteronomer. It read 1,678,974,532 he frowned and messaged the base.  


What was the last recorded meter of the stolen X-Wing BNR4793f?  


He waited a few minutes for the reply and turned back to the back seat. His heart froze as he saw the white of the seat was permanently stained in rusty colored blood stains. Rey had been shoved into that seat. His empty stomach threatened to up heave itself again, but her reigned it in.  


The ping sounded that informed him that the last recorded meter of the X-Wing was 176,765,431. The ship had only taken one trip after it was stolen. Kylo Ren was still here. He reached for the only item in the back seat, a leather satchel. It was heavier than it looked and he grunted as he heaved it into his lap. He was careful to take note of how it sat in the seat and how the latch kept it closed. There could not be any difference in the scene if someone returned. As soon as he opened the top flap his hands trembled uncontrollably. There sitting on top was the mask of Kylo Ren. 

He was here. Poe's hand closed over the hilt of the brute's light saber and he shuddered as he thought of all the people it had cut down. Gently moving things aside he found Kylo Ren's dark robes. That made sense, dark colors and the desert didn't usually go well. But at the bottom of the sack with four weeks of rationed food was a neat pile of blood stained white wraps and a pair of little boots. Poe's fists clenched in quaking fury and horror. 

The freak had kept her clothes. He hadn't just tortured her and murdered her, he'd-- Poe snapped his eyes closed and refused to finish the thought. The past was something he could not change. The future however...as he carefully placed everything back the way he'd found it he plotted how he would kill this monster. He decided the ship was as good a trap as any. He'd set up a stake out at the top of the dunes over looking the alcove where the ship was hidden. He would slaughter this beast if it was the last thing he did.  


“Alpha One,” He snapped into his comm, “This is Blue 4. I have whereabouts of Kylo Ren, Repeat, I have evidence on Kylo Ren. Need back up immediately. Quiet Tact-team. Need Back up. Repeat need back up. Blue 4 out.”  
A voice of fate crackled over the receiver, “Blue 4 Acknowledged. Back up confirmed. Blue 4 do not engage suspect, confirm.”  


Poe didn't answer, throwing things into his kit and packing up for his hunt.  


“Blue 4, confirm instructions.” Home base demanded. Poe promptly snapped his receiver off and began his solo hunt.


	4. It Has Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment/review! I need feedback! :)

Poe found the ship within a few hours. It was the only sign of civilization for over a hundred miles and was a good eight miles from the nearest speeder docking. There was no trail, but there wouldn't be one no matter how many people trekked from the dock to the crash sight because of the winds shifting the sand. It was nestled in a valley flat land. Two miles from the X-Wing, easy access to it, but with the X-Wing so well camouflaged and hidden in the little alcove one might not notice the connection between the two of them. But Poe did. This was the perfect hide out and escape possibility. This was a den the beast could hide in for years and remain undiscovered. It was only by luck that Poe had discovered him. 

At first everything was in place like it should have been. There was nothing out of the ordinary to draw attention, strategical. Intelligent. Like Ren. His blood boiled with the thought of even the name. But then he'd begun to notice specific things that bothered him. There was a curtain hanging over the pried open exit ramp. Not just a windbreaker or something to keep the heat in....but some small attempt to make the ship look more like a...home. It was a retired empirical Lambda shuttle. It's been here a while. Decades. 

Why would the Knight of Ren choose an old abandoned, dilapidated ship to live in? Where was the rationale in that. He was on of the highest ranking members of the First Order even if the Resistance hadn't heard of him in years... he would require a ship of luxury, some real sort of shelter...not this piece of junk. Then he notices the paintings. Bright colored suns and flowers litter d the hull of the ship in what could not be mistaken for anything but a child's scrawl. A very small child. Perhaps he truly had been mistaken and found the wrong ship. 

Suddenly, from where Poe lay atop a dune watching through his scopes the curtain to the ramp was thrown to the side and a large man stormed down it. He was in boots and black pants but wore no shirt. He has a dark top knot of hair pulled back from a murderous glare on a sharply angled face. A thick boiling scare ran it's way from his forehead, diagonally across his face and off his jaw to delve into his collar bone all the way down to the right shoulder. Poe had never seen his face before...but the scar was a trade mark. Here was his prey, the deadly predator. 

Poe observed him from afar, gauging his weaknesses...and finding that himself overwhelmed by the lack thereof he could identify. Everything in that monster's being hummed of power. Poe had felt the savage ravaging of the man's mental capacity with the force when he'd torn him open slowly, lighting each and every neuron in his brain on fire. He'd seen the beast stop a blaster bolt in mid air, felt the heat of it as he was drug forward to meet the menace. The heat of the blaster was nothing compared to the feeling emanating from the man himself, he'd learned. He didn't need the force to recognize the raw power humming and crackling around the man like lightning. Now looking at him from afar he was unnerved by the sheer amount of mass Kylo Ren possessed. Brute lumbering strength boasted proudly from a body such as this. Across his chest the muscles weren't clearly defined, like across his abdomen, but instead it was smooth and solid like granite. One might almost be able to claim that there wasn't even an abnormal amount of muscle there at all but for the fact that even from this distance Poe could see them twitch and roll like gears in a well oiled machine as the man stalked around the side of the ship and out of sight. 

He calmed his breathing and forced Rey's young face before the eye of his mind. She deserved justice. She deserved revenge—and as powerful as he looked now, how terrifying must he have seemed to the girl as he tortured her, and shredded her mind and forced himself upon her. No, he would not back down now. He would kill him. Somehow. 

He was finally resolved and back at peace with himself when yet another variable through itself into the equation to shake him up. A small child tore around the other side of the ship and the giant emerged once again taking long, lumbering stride to easily over take the child and yank him off his feet. Poe's stomach lurched and he desperately wiped the sweat from his eyes, anxiety thrumming through him like an overworked engine in a paper hull. Where did the child come from? What was Kylo Ren going to do to him? Poe knew he couldn't do anything yet. If he charged in to save the youngling he'd get them both killed and the Resistance would lose the Knight of Ren again. But what was that monster going to do to the boy? Poe had the strong urge to vomit again but instead reached for his sonar-radar aiming it to pick up what was happening. He could not do anything to stop this either, but like Rey, this child would be avenged for whatever sins where committed him. Poe hands shook uncontrollably and he wiped his brow feverishly. 

The first sound that came over the radar was...a laugh. A tiny, bell-like child's giggle and as he peered through his scopes again he caught a glance at the Knight of Ren's face split wide in a...joyous grin. It was so foreign and unearthly Poe was frozen to the spot by confusion. 

“Was it you?” The man's voice filtered over the radar. So vastly different than the voice the mask spoke that Poe once again questioned whether this was truly the right place and had to remind himself of the scar and other evidence. 

“NO!” The little boy in his arms giggled hysterically pushing at the hands that held him, each one bigger than his chest. As Poe looked at the way the man was holding the child he realized his mistake earlier. The man had not yanked the child off his feet, he'd scooped him up gently as though he was holding the most precious thing on earth. 

“Oh really?” Kylo Ren asked in mock harshness as he began to tickle the boy in his arms. The child squealed and squirmed in delight and Poe couldn't get rid of the sick feeling only growing in his gut. Who was this child? “And who do you think is the culprit then? Hmmm? Did I do it? Did your mother?” 

“I- don't- know!” He gasped tears of mirth streaming down his round face. “I- Don't- know what you're talking about!” 

“This!” The man dropped the child gently but held onto his wrist to keep him from running and picked up the discarded article of clothing on the ground. He slipped it on, a shirt Poe realized and glared at the cackling boy as Poe realized there was a bright yellow sun slapped onto the chest of the garment in paint. “Are you telling me you didn't do this?” He raised an eyebrow and squatted down to the boy's level. The boy shook his head mischievously. “Who did it then?” 

“Mama.” The little boy snickered. 

“I don't think so.” The man said pulling the tiny child into this grasp again. Poe's breath hitched. This...this was Kylo Ren's child. He could see it now. The angles in the boy's face so cleverly disguised by baby fat. The thick dark curly hair, even, now that he could see his fact, Kylo Ren's grin that was almost too wide for his face. Who the mother was, Poe had no idea. But this was unmistakably the son of Kylo Ren. 

“Was too!” The boy squirmed to no avail. “Mama!” He shrieked, “Mama!” 

Suddenly the curtain was thrown back to reveal a cream robed desert woman responding to her child's shrieks. Poe stopped breathing. 

“Aha!” She chuckled. “The culprit's been caught!” 

“No!” He shook his little curly head. “It wasn't me! It was you!” She pulled another shirt from behind her back and revealed a bright red petaled daisy painted across it's chest. 

“Oh was it? And who painted this then?” 

“Daddy!” He insisted finally squirming free of his father's hold only to be caught up in his mother's. His mother was older. Seven years ages someone, Poe would know. But she still wore white warps to combat the glaring sun. She still pulled her hair back into three buns of red brown waves. Her eyes still squinted closed when she laughed and her nose still scrunched when she smiled. Her arms and legs were slender but wiry strong and seeing her was like being shot through his already churning stomach. Rey was the mother. 

Rey was alive. Rey was alive and the mother of Kylo Ren's child. Poe still couldn't manage to breathe. From where he lay on the ledge Poe suddenly was met by a thunderous dark gaze as the Knight of Ren suddenly snapped his attention straight at the dune from which he was watching them. He was well camouflaged and was at a far enough distance human eyes shouldn't have been able to see him...but then again...was Kylo Ren really human? Poe lay frozen to the spot, staring the Knight in the eye in petrified breathlessness as they stared at each other from a distance. Poe could see Kylo Ren had just started reaching for his son and murmuring, 

“Rey,” When the fourth sun broke the horizon line announcing the new day and a fleet of First Order ships broke the horizon with them. The man's focus was diverted from Poe to face the threat. 

“What is it Ky?” Rey frowned and reached forward to grab Kylo Ren's outstretched hand. Poe's stomach churned as how she reacted to him. Gently, concerned...what was it that she called him? Ky? Poe was both disgusted and overjoyed. Confusion was churning in his gut. Had he managed to turn Rey to the dark side? Was she brainwashed? Seduced? Was the First Order here for them? Had she been completing missions for them all along? In secret? What did all of this mean? Rey's voice ripped Poe from his musings repeating, “Ky, talk to me, what's the matter? Are you having a vision? Are you okay?” She knelt down in front of him, holding her now quiet son to her side tightly and cupped the man's face gently. 

“Is Daddy dreaming again?” The boy whispered, and Poe could barely make out the words due to the static over the Radar. 

“No.” Kylo Ren's voice was rough and raw, terrified, Poe realized with a jolt. “They're here.” 

“Who?” Rey frowned running her hand down his face again, “Deep breaths Ky, you're going to be okay, the vision will pass in a minute...just-” 

“No, Rey!” Kylo Ren gripped her wrist and tore his gaze from the Horizon to look her face, his own going bone white. “It's not a vision...They're here. They're here for us.” 

“Who?” Rey whipped around caging her son to her chest in an instinctively protective way that made Poe's bones ache. 

“Resistance.” He pointed directly up at the dune that Poe was perched on. “And the First Order.” He pointed at the fleet only growing on the horizon line. “It has come.” There were tears in the man's voice that shook Poe to his core. Kylo Ren closed his eyes once and when he opened them he was a broken man. Poe knew one when he saw one. Those were the eyes of a shattered man who knew he was going to lose everything. Suddenly Poe understood. Kylo Ren didn't sway Rey. She swayed him. He'd left the First Order. The answer made no logical sense... but Poe felt the validity of it in his soul. He hated the fact that it was true and wanted to believe that it wasn't...but it was painted on the Knight of Ren's face as clear as the bright yellow sun on his shirt. The First Order was not coming to pick them up or check in and refuel. The First Order was here to kill and capture.


	5. Trust

It was Kylo who sensed it first. He usually did. Rey had come to rely on her husband's saturation in the force. She had been developing her own powers over the last few years with his help...but she still hadn't found the complete submersion. The force was something she possessed in plethora. Kylo regularly expresed his belief that she had more raw force power than even he did, which interested him considering he was the direct descendant of Anakin Skywalker. He found great interest in trying to track her blood lines and find her heritage because he insisted she was a great and powerful Force user, who must be from a line stronger that Anakins'.... there was a time when she would have jumped at the opportunity to find her family, when there was nothing she wanted more...but she had always known they weren't coming back for her...and she was content here. She had a family. She had a husband she knew would never abandon her and a child she knew neither of them would either leave. She didn't want anything more. She didn't need anything more. And while she smiled and went along with her husband's excited chatter and discoveries—his excitement and words were so precious few she'd come to treasure each of them and remember each moment forever-- she was not convinced that she was the stronger in the force of the two of them. 

Kylo was so complete in his Force. He knew every corner and crevice of it and wore it like he wore his skin. There was no Kylo without his force, they were one and the same thing. She shared the bond with him and felt him wrestle with it day in and day out. Dark and light. But it was a comfortable battle. The straining of muscles to make them stronger. It was not painful like the dark side had been. That had ripped him limb from limb and shredded his soul, stripped him of everything human and left him wounded, naked in the dark. No, this was a battle that he fought daily, not a battle he was abused by daily. She'd lived this battle with him for seven years now, and together they wrestled with the dark and the light and found the balance between. 

She remembered the first one like yesterday, the way he'd collapsed, the way he'd shaken for days, couldn't eat, sleep, speak, move...he'd just laid there in her arms trembling, eyes wide in terror of something he could see, but she couldn't. After the third day, she'd thought she'd lost him forever. She'd sobbed his name and held him close to her, cradling him like a child, although she hadn't ever held one at that point. She'd run her fingers through his hair trying anything to hold onto him, unsure of how long she'd still have that chance. 

She'd been so terrified it was the first time she'd realized just how much she loved him. One of the first times her fear and hate of him had left her without inhibitions and she had realized just how strong their bond was...she couldn't imagine a life without him in it. He had been so quiet on that side of the bond...so...still. It was hardly the Kylo Ren she'd come accustomed to trying to keep out of her head. The roaring and thrashing of a storm at sea. This was a single drop of water dripping from her canteen. Weak, meager, almost out of life. 

But when she'd reached for him, she found the dam he'd built across that section of his mind to keep her out. When she'd finally managed to slip in past his defenses she'd been overwhelmed at first, but together they'd managed fight back the darkness. She'd shown him how...After that moment things where different between them. It was as great a moment in their bond as the first time they'd made love. Crawling into that dark space of his mind and setting up a shelter there for him to find, was just as personal and private and precious as crawling into his bed with him. She hadn't realized it when she'd done it...but she wouldn't change it for anything now. 

Understanding the darkness in Kylo was like understanding that he was intelligent or emotional. There was no separating the passion from his soul. It was like handing a knife to him and asking him to skin his left arm to the bone because it had hurt someone once. The darkness in Kylo, she'd learned, was not to be feared, but to be understood, accepted and controlled. Some of his mighty force was dark, and so the dark was something she'd learned to accept...even love at times, because there was no Kylo without his force. It moved like another limb, and wrapped itself so deeply in his mind it measured his emotions and while he may control how he used the force...the force also controlled how it used him. This was a power, Rey didn't think she'd ever possess. Not that she minded. Kylo was much stronger that her physically and the only thing that really meant in their relationship was that he was a better protector for her and her son. The same went for the force. She may have powerful reserves, but without the weaponry to utilize that power like Kylo had, she could only go so far. 

As she stared at Kylo as he breathed those fateful words she'd seen in his eyes he'd been here before. He'd watched this sunrise and horizon before. He'd felt this windblown sand and tasted this fear before. This was the fulfillment of one of his force visions and he knew how this day was going to end. Her blood ran cold at his face. How was this day going to end? 

“Rey,” He gripped either side of her face firmly and told her, “I need you to do everything I say. There is only one way we all live to see the end of this day. Only one. You must do everything I say. Alright?” 

Her face was numb in terror as she nodded obediently, desperately clutching her son and mumbling, 

“Alright.” 

“Give me Sai and go torch the ship.” He instructed pulling her precious baby from her arms. 

“But Kylo...” She whispered. 

“Do as I say Rey.” He said firmly, as for the fear and pain in his eye she complied. Kylo never gave her orders. He offered advice, helpful suggestions, but never told her what she was to do. But this was the only way he'd said...so did that mean that they died if she didn't? By the way he was holding Sai to himself, she was sick with the feeling something horrible was going to happen to her baby. 

“Wait five minutes.” He told her. “Then torch the ship and clear out. Meet Sai at the X-wing in fifteen minutes, no later. I'm having him take off with or without us.” Then Kylo turned from her and ran as quickly as he possibly could, not paying heed to the fact that without wraps he was already burning and would be blistering in ten minutes, clutching her baby boy to him desperately as though this was the last time he'd ever hold the small child again. Heart hammering in her rib cage she turned once to look up to the hill Kylo had claimed held the resistance fighters on it. She stared up at them and wondered what role they would play in this day before shaking her head and going to complete her husband's orders. They would live through the day if it all went according to plan. The fact that she didn't know the plan didn't matter. She trusted Kylo. She trusted him.


	6. The Strongest Thing in the Galaxy

Kylo had never run like this in his entire life. He'd run, of course. He'd run from his parents, from his uncle, from the Light. He'd run from Snoke and the First Order, the Dark...He'd fled with Rey, and felt terror pumping through his veins...but nothing had ever terrified him like this day. The image of his son's face frozen in death, round cheeks ashen and wide eyes glossy, a blaster hole in his tiny skull propelled him faster than he'd ever thought was humanly possible. His dark force thrummed, dark, red, passionate, terrified, in his chest and intoxicated his heart, pumping pure force now rather than blood through his veins there was no light here now. His muscles were the strongest they'd ever been, feeding off the force with rapid hunger and the sweat pouring off his body was thick and potent. It was as though his entire body was weeping in terror. 

Sai's tiny hands gripped his shirt around his neck in bunches and he clung to the child in a way he knew probably hurt the boy. But he was so panicked, so scared, he couldn't help it. This was the last time he was going to hold his son. This was the last chance to save him...He'd seen it. The First Order would kill both Sai and Rey before they killed him if it didn't end this way. This was the only way. Sai didn't say anything as they ran, just clung to him in petrified silence. Children could be so aware of what was happening around them at times it grieved him. Did his baby know that there were men who wanted to kill him? Why couldn't he grow up safe, happy, why couldn't Sai be given the childhood he deserved? Why must his son also be traumatized by these people? It would traumatize him, Kylo was aware of that fact. His father was likely going to die to day, he'd might lose his mother too. There was no avoiding that now. Kylo ached in his soul knowing that his son might experience the desolate loneliness Rey feared so much after growing up alone....but even traumatized....at least he'd live. 

Uncertainty had frozen Kylo when the ships had first arrived...this choice he'd made....it would save his son...but it would get him killed and sometimes Rey died in the vision too. He had been torn when the fleet had risen with the forth sun... his son? Or his wife? How was he to choose! The image of Rey, choking on her own blood, dying slowly, several feet from him, alone, was painful. He'd wept, when he woke from that vision and it had taken days of Rey comforting him for him to recover...he'd never loose that image...her gurgling his name, eyes wide in a terror that was so foreign on her brave face... white warps across her breast crimson stained and blackened in blaster bolts. 

They made him watch from a distance too far to hold her and comfort her as she slowly drowned in the blood that kept her living before they finally ended him too. When he'd woken up sobbing, he refused to let go of her all night. Holding her so tightly to him he could feel the slight twinge of pain it caused her but she hadn't complained, simply let him hold her and sob into her hair, pressing her face into his shoulder and crushing her... it was far, far better than the thought of her dying away from his embrace. Alone. Like she'd been born. That fate was unbearable....but so were her screams harmonized with his in vicious agony as the soldier shot their baby through the head. 

When the fleet had risen he'd been torn...and even now his heart throbbed with uncertainty in his choice...but nothing would hinder his desperate flight as he tore across the desert...the most precious being in the universe pressed to his chest. Finally he reached the alcove and tore the camouflaged tarp from over the ship. He was tearing the hood off with force he didn't know he possessed and nestling his baby down in the safety of this escape. It was terrifying, the thought of sending his vulnerable child into the stratosphere without him, likely without his mother, helpless against the forces of the galaxy...but he had no other choice. He wanted to scream and tear his own eyes out...the dark was swarming over him and he beat it back a bit. He couldn't let it consume him yet. He had to love his wife and son one last time... He had to be a gentle and concerned father now...this may be the last memory his son had of him...he would rage and he would destroy and crush those after his family later...but not now. Now he was Daddy. 

“Daddy?” Sai asked, quietly, “What's going to happen to us?” 

Kylo looked into his son's young and tender face and was torn. He would not lie to this child. But neither could he give him the brutal truth...everything was not going to be okay...but telling his precious child that by the end of the day his mother would either be separate from him, for who knows to long, or drowning in her own blood... and his father would either be a rotting corpse on the sands of the place that he'd called home his entire life, or worse taken by and enemy of the worst type to be taken apart piece by piece for his betrayal of them...that was not a truth he could share either. 

“I don't know what's going to happen to us, Sai.” He told him honestly, biting back tears and cupping his face, “But I do know the most important things there are to know.” 

“What are those?” Sai questioned meekly, obviously disturbed by his father's tears. 

Kylo took a deep breath to try and control his voice. “I love your mother, and she loves me, and we both love you more than you'll ever know. That's the most important thing you ever need to remember, Sai. Love is the strongest thing in the world, alright? No matter what anyone else tells you, whether they be a Jedi, or a general, or a Teacher or a friend, you remember that your father told you Love is the strongest thing in the galaxy, alright? Can you do that?” 

“Yes.” Sai nodded, tears flooding his own green speckled eyes. “I love you, Daddy.” His bottom lip trembled. 

“I know.” Kylo nodded, clenching his teeth against those tears. “I know buddy, I know.” Then he cupped the little face in both his hands and looked the boy square in the face. “Those ships out there, they're coming because they want your mother and I. They can't know about you, alright? They can't know anything about you, ever. You're a secret, okay? Do you understand me?” 

“Yeah.” Sai nodded, tears dribbling down his round cheeks. “But why?” 

“Because they're evil men. There are evil men every where Sai. On every side of a war. There is no good reason for war...but there are good reasons to fight, alright? No matter what happens to us after this you gotta make me a promise, okay?” 

“Okay.” he hiccuped a frightened sob. 

“No matter what kind of a man you grow up to be-” Kylo's voice broke and he had to stop, shuddering with sobs he was trying so desperately to mask from his son's observant eye. “You remember what is right, and you chase after it. You might not always catch it but don't give up. Chase it! Remember that love is the strongest thing in the Galaxy and always to chase after what is good. Can you promise that?” 

“Yes.” Sai whispered. 

“Alright, good boy.” He gave the child a teary smile and reached into the back seat to pull his Ren helmet from the satchel back there. “You wear this when you're flying, kay?” He slide it over his son's curl crowned head and adjusted it as best he could. “But whenever you leave the ship you hide it, kay?” 

“Okay.” Kylo Ren's voice responded and Kylo jumped nearly as high as his son did as the mask filtered his voice. He gave a wet chuckle and switched the voice masker off. “Kinda creepy, huh?” He asked, The over-sized helmet nodded. “Do you remember the coordinates you have memorized?” 

“For in case of an emergency?” his sons blessedly bell-like voice asked from beneath the mask. 

“Yeah, those one's, do you remember them?” 

“Uh-huh.” he nodded again. 

“Good, when the timer,” He pulled the helmet off and began programming a timer into the viser, “gets to zero, you need to fly, alright? You need to leave as fast as you can and get to those coordinates, kay?” 

“But, what about mama and you?” He asked with wide frightened eyes. 

“That's what the timer is for. If your Mama's not here when you hit zero-” Kylo choked on his words and took a deep breath before finishing, “You leave her here. Kay? You might have to leave both your mother and I here, but it's going to be okay, because you remember what I said?” 

“That love is the strongest this in the galaxy?” Sai looked at him suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Kylo nodded, pushing the hair Rey had braided that morning and was already pulling free behind his son's ears. “The strongest thing. Even stronger than...than death...when someone dies.” Finally a tear slipped down his cheek and his sons pudgy little hand reached to stop it. 

“Daddy, are you and Mama going to die?” he asked with a both terrified and knowing look. 

“The force is with you, Sai.” Kylo promised instead. “And as long as the force is with you, you'll have your mother and I as well.” he pressed a kiss to his sons' forehead for what was likely the last time and memorized the way his soft, wet skin felt against his lips, before pulling the mask over his son's head again, snatching his light saber from the pack in the back and pulling the hood closed. Little hands slapped against the window in terror as his son screamed, 

“No! Don't go, Daddy! Don't die!” 

“Go to the coordinates, Sai!” Kylo yelled so he'd hear him through the glass. “Go to the coordinates, you hear me?” 

His son nodded, his sobs were audible even through the glass. “I love you, son.” he choked on his words and turned his back on his baby, setting out in a jog back out of the alcove, running from the banging of little fists on a glass hood and the terrified screams of a little boy begging his father not to run into the face of certain death. “May the force go with you,” He whispered and swallowed his grief and let the darkness of his fear and passion consume him. He ran with the force of a tidal wave to now fight for the life of his wife now that he'd secured the life of his son. There may be no good reason for war...but there was always reason to fight for what was good in this world. Always reason to die for was good, and precious...because love...is the strongest thing in the galaxy. ********


	7. The Only Way

Rey had torched the ship like she'd been instructed and cleared out quickly, she guessed she had fifteen minutes before the flames reached deep enough to hit the still half-full fuel tank of the ship she'd called home for seven years now and it exploded in obliteration...it was harder than she'd thought it would be...soaking her sons' drawings and stuffed toys in gasoline, slipping one drawing into the lining of her shirt first, unable to part with it, soaking the kitchen floor and cabinets where she'd attempted to teach Kylo how to cook with the meager skills she'd acquired. She'd fought with her husband here, in the kitchen, they'd screamed at each other over that table, bracing strong forearms against it, refusing the urge to physically lash out of each other though their faces had been within inches of each other's, red, twisted and angry as they fought...they'd kissed in this kitchen too, melted into each other's arms, drowning in each other before he would pick her up like she didn't weigh a thing and carry her over to their bed without breaking the kiss. 

Her hands shook as she doused the bed too in the fire fuel... every night had been spent here, wrapped in each other's arms...holding each other close...making love when they weren't too tired to move...their son was conceived and born here on this bed, raised in this home they now destroyed. He'd taken his first steps there across that threshold...the same threshold Ky and her had slept on when they first stumbled into this ship that night of the sandstorm seven years ago...when he'd been weak and bleeding and nearly died as they held onto eachother, listening to the groaning of the ships old hull in the storm...a sound so foreign to them then...but now so familiar. This was their home, where they suffered and rejoiced with each other, fought and loved eachother... Rey had never been attached to a place before...but now...in the face of possibly losing her beloved husband and precious son...now she longed for those memories, found value in the home she dropped the lighter in and turned from watching it burn, unable to bear it. 

Snatching her light saber from where it rested above the door frame of their home she ran from the memories and towards the little X-wing that held the memory makers. She was half-way across the plain, five-minutes from the ship when the fleet finally reached her, swarming her like bees to a hive and overwhelming her by their sheer numbers. As her blue saber hummed to life and she snarled at the storm troopers now charging down the exit ramp, she burned with the heat of a fire far more consuming that the fires that now ate away at her little home. She blazed with the fire of a mother and protector who's child was being threatened and ignited like the wife she was, married to a powerful man that everyone in the universe wanted claim to. Here the desert cat was staking her claim. The claims to the child and that man where hers and hers alone and as the first saber bit into the flesh of a storm trooper she had no time to grieve for them, as she normally did for Finn's sake, only time to accept the darkness in her for her families sake. 

******** 

Poe was torn. He didn't know if he should fly in and fight to the death with Rey, he could see her from here as her blue lightsaber flickered and flashed, dismembering storm troopers as though they were but clay to be crumbled. He wanted to rush in and swoop her out of the battle, but the tiny child below him in the alcove kept him stationary. He would not leave this little child to any possibility of death. He couldn't be more than five or six years old and Poe's heart ached for him, remembering his mother's last words to him just before she flew her last mission. The flight that would claim her life. 

Love is the strongest thing in the galaxy, that's what Kylo Ren had told his son before setting off on his last mission... Take care of your father now. Those had been his mother's last words to him. And he'd turned his back on his father as soon as he was old enough to leave him...a decision Poe grieved committing even now after over thirty years...he would not turn his back on this boy, this was Rey's son. Even if his father was Kylo Ren...His mother was Rey and Poe couldn't bear the thought of leaving the helpless babe to the mercy of the First order. They had none, not even for the young. 

So he set up his rifle and scoped out the alcove while the timer ticked down for the boy. Poe knew that timer would reach zero before Rey reached the ship. There was no avoiding that now. Perhaps Kylo Ren had even known that when he'd set the timer and given his son those instructions...perhaps he'd been blindly wishing that Rey would reach them on time...but Poe could see her out there from his perch, he could see the troopers swarming her like ants and the fleet of twenty ships circling her like vultures, spitting bolts at her that were each longer than she was tall. She was fending them off viciously...but it wouldn't be enough. Poe wanted to scream in frustration. Rey was alive! He’d found Rey alive only to watch her die! No! He couldn't! He wouldn't! But...He couldn't save Rey without risking the life of her son and what mother wouldn't rather die than lose her child? For the first time in his life Poe was anxious to see Kylo Ren enter the battle field. 

And there he was. Charging straight at the pack like a bull. His sleeveless shirt had left him exposed to the sun and he was burning an angry red already... but he didn't seem to notice as his snapping red light saber snarled to life and he let out a roar that actually scattered the Storm Trooper's ranks closest to him. As the dark knight reached the swarm, he swung his light saber in a mighty heave and cut down three troopers at the middle. If Rey fought like a cat, quick, sharp and agile, then Kylo Ren fought like a Gurogant, a large bull with spiked tusks, throwing powerful swings and obliterating any one who dared stand between him and his mate. It was chilling to watch. He wiped out an entire quarter of the circle of foes surrounding Rey, just shy of 100 soldiers and Poe's sick stomach was comforted only by the fact that he was racing forward to protect Rey, a strange and foreign thought that his mind would instantly reject if it weren't for the fact he'd watched them interact and heard the Knight's last words to his son. That there was a man who fully intended to die to save his family and was committed to taking as many beings as possible down with him who dared threaten that family. Logic didn't need to be present at all, only proof. It didn't need to make sense if it was true. 

Finally the Knight of Ren reached the Jedi and they instantly turned their backs to each other, guarding each other and slaughtering their numerous foes. Watching them was disturbingly mesmerizing, a wild and feral dance of complicated steps and deadly intent, limbs and bodies falling like leaves of a forestland's autumn; burnt, twisted and dark with auburn red. Blue and red flashed so close and so swiftly their streaks would blend on occasion leaving purple slices across the viewers eyes. As deadly and mighty as these two were apart, they were twice that together. They flipped over each other and ducked under swings as though they were somehow of the same mind controlling two bodies and every so often a blast of the force would ripple from their epicenter to crush the nearest soldiers like paper. 

It was painfully futile though, between the never ending supply of storm troopers on the ground and the firing ships above they were hopelessly outmatched even as terrifying as they were. Poe readjusted his grip on his rifle as a posse of soldiers split from the mob and began trekking towards the little alcove Kylo Ren had come from. There was no way they were going to lay a hand on that child though. Not on Poe's watch. The whirring of the little X-wings engine came to life and it began turning to take off. A comforted smile touched Poe;s lips, he'd been afraid the kid might not follow his father's orders...he knew he wouldn't have as a child. But apparently the youngling had enough sense to know when his father knew what he was doing. The ship had just stretched out in it's first sprint down the short hand-done runway when the first troopers rounded the corner, and one by one they were picked off like little white daisies, falling like snowflakes. The ship hit the air and Poe couldn't help the swelling in his heart as he noticed the flying technique the little child had inherited from his mother. Not yet a decade old and he was already mastering the X-wing. 

But then the firing started. Four of the ships peeled off from the fleet to charge at the lone little x-wing firing like a mad frenzy of a hailstorm. The little boy dipped up and down, swerving in a desperate attempt to dodge the strikes, but it was to no avail. One hit a wing, causing minor damage and the other nearly skimmed the cockpit. Poe fired desperately at the ships with his rifle, but was only able to nick one, they were moving to fast and too far away, this little sniper wasn't made for airstrikes. Poe watched in horror as seven rounds of plasma blaster bolts aimed directly from the core set off in an immediate round. A yell tore from his throat as in that split second he thought he'd failed the boy, the terrified scream of the mother and pained roar of the father tore his heart in two...but suddenly, as quickly as the bolts had left their barrels, they froze in mid air, trembling and angrily humming as they were held in place against their will. Seven devils of fire and fury leashed back, snarling and struggling against a power they'd never met before—the strongest thing in the galaxy. 

Poe's attention was drawn back to Kylo Ren who'd dropped his light saber and defenses to hold the blasters in the air and give his son the needed escape. It wasn't just the bolts though, he realized in awe, as the little boy shot out into the stratosphere, his father paused the blasters in the air and the ships that had birthed them. Several tons of metal and equipment surged against the man's force grip, but the overworked engines and hyper-drives were wailing to no avail. Kylo Ren had dropped everything to stop them from touching his son and Rey flickered around him, blocking everything from reaching him as he concentrated all his power against the air. Finally he released the blaster bolts and they crashed into each other, exploding into a cloud of fire, and in one mighty sweep of the arm he sent the far-most ship crashing into the other, causing a deadly chain of explosions in the air like fireworks as he took all four out with one motion. Their son free, Kylo Ren grabbed Rey's wrist and charged through the pack again, carving a way for them with his crimson blade as she warded shots from behind off with her sapphire one. When they finally broke through they ran as though the hounds of hell were after them and raced for the alcove. Not to escape, or find advantage, simply to run from their hunters. There was nothing left for them to do. They were outmatched. And they'd already won the life of their son. 

Poe scrambled back to his ship and started her up shoving his helmet on and rolling her around, throwing the rifle stand in the compartment and snapping his jump suit up, he skated to the rim of the dune just as the two force-user's rounded into the alcove. A dead end. The end. They skated to a stop, and Rey immediately reached for him, touching his face, tearily asking if he was alright, clinging to his shirt like a wet kitten. 

“Are you okay? Let me look at your neck, the blaster took some skin. Can you breathe okay? Are you sure Sai remembered the coordinates? Are you sure you're okay, Ky?” 

“Rey,” Kylo Ren gripped her wrists and pulled them away from where she was trying to tend to his wound. Stress tore Poe limb, he could not save them both...and while he wouldn't mind leaving the knight of Ren...he was beginning to doubt that Rey would share his sentiment. “Rey,” Kylo Ren repeated. “It's okay. Breathe, alright? It's okay, Sai is fine, everything's going to be alright.” 

“I thought we agreed we weren't going to lie to each other.” Rey smiled at him with tears in her eye...one dribbled over the rim and he caught it with his thumb, stroking his huge hand down the side of her face and cupping her jaw gently. 

“I'm not lying, it's going to be alright. Sai's going to be fine.” He promised, dark gaze flickering anxiously between the entrance, where troopers would enter any moment, and the dune rim, where Poe stood watching, tendons and ligaments groaning under the weight of his balled up muscles. 

“But he's going to grow up alone, Ky!” She cried, tragic terror trembling her entire frame as tears poured down her face. “He's going to be so alone, and vulnerable, there will be no one to comfort him when he's scared....or take care of him when he's sick-” Her voice cracked and suddenly she was gripping Kylo Ren's wrists as he cupped her face, her knuckles growing white with the force of it. “I don't want to die, Ky! I don't want to leave our son! I'm not ready- I don't want to die-” She started sobbing. 

“Rey!” Kylo Ren gasped, pulling her to his chest and caging her entire head with one hand against him, “You're not going to die today. Sai's not going to be an orphan, you're not going to die, you're going to be fine. Sai's going to be fine. You're going to be alright.” His voice was shaking violently. 

“How can you lie to my face like that!” She pulled free and shoved away from him. 

“I'm not lying to you, Rey. I'd never lie to you.” He swore vehemently. 

“Your- your vision?” She asked suddenly, breathless, eyes wide in hope. “How do we escape this?” 

Kylo Ren's gaze dropped from hers and he murmured, “We don't, Rey.” 

“What?- but you said...” She began and suddenly her eyes blew wide enough to see the whites all the way around the iris. “NO.” She refused, “No, Kylo. Either we both die, or we both live. There is no other option.” 

“I've seen all the options, Rey.” He responded steely eyed, “This is the only way.” He reached for her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She jerked away from him like he'd burned her. 

“No!” She whispered, her voice completely choked off, “I can't live without you, Ky!” 

“I love you.” He responded with tears of his own before throwing her to the rim of the dune with the force. The scream that tore itself from Rey's throat was enough to freeze blood, but immediately Poe was by her side, pulling her back as she tried to scramble back down the side to him again. 

“NO! KY!” She screamed as Poe hauled her up by the waist and dragged her away from the rim. She threw and elbow back into Poe's face and another into his gut and suddenly his air supply was cut off and he was choking and releasing her, falling to the ground. She stood above him, tear stained and bloody, rage and grief painting her face for war and Poe wondered as he choked on his own throat if he'd ever known this woman at all...but then she was releasing him with a startled, “Poe?” And it was so soft, and confused and Poe saw her again. The girl who always fought for what was right. 

“Rey,” he gasped surging to his feet again, “We have to go. There's not much time.” 

“But...” Her gaze was drawn back to Kylo Ren who stood still at the bottom of the alcove looking up at her as the first troopers rounded the corner. “Ky!” She yelled, her voice raw and hoarse, snapping in the wind. 

“Find Sai!” He called back. “I love you Rey.” Then he turned his back on her and charged straight at the troopers cutting them aside and breaking free to run across the desert, half a fleet of First Order ships firing at him and a good 'nother 200 soldiers trailing him. A few ships broke free of the fleet and flew in to scout out the alcove and Poe dropped to the ground, pushing Rey into the sand beside him and holding her down as they searched for her. Their camouflage paid them well and Rey covered her mouth to silence the sobs, so eventually the ships turned back to pursue Kylo Ren, deciding him the bigger target. As soon as they were gone Rey was up again whispering, 

“Don't do this Ky, what are you doing?” 

He was running back to the ship, Poe realized, though there wasn't much to run back to. The whole thing was lit up like a torch, there was nothing he could use as refuge or cover. It wasn't cover he was seeking though, he slowed as he reached the ship, stood there in front of his home and watched it burn. The ships circled in close and the troopers drew around him like a cloak, Surrounding him and immobilizing him, 

“Kylo Ren.” A general's voice commanded over the loud speaker. “Lay down your weapon.” 

“No, no,no” Rey was murmuring. “The ship-” 

Exploded. The ship exploded into a million pieces of shrapnel, billowing flame and liquid metal taking out nearly the entire fleet in one fell. The force of the blast was enough to feel from the dune on which they stood. Rey's face went bone white as her eyes glazed over and she whispered, 'Ky-” Before collapsing in the sand limply. 

It wasn't shock, Poe knew that. Certainly there was shock... but Rey dropped and paled the way the General and dropped and paled when Han Solo had been killed. Rey sensed something through the force. Poe stood witness to the smoldering death of Kylo Ren, but Rey felt it. And for her sake he mourned the loss as he scooped her limp frame up from the sand and slid her into the cock pilot seat, buckling her in and snapping an helmet over her head. Tears poured from her wide, unblinking eyes as she stared straight ahead at something that was not there, desperately wishing to see someone she would not see. Not ever again. Not in life at least. Poe's beaten and bruised heart throbbed as he jumped into the cockpit and pulled the hood over the hull, pulling out and flying away from the wreckage of what used to be called a home, with what used to be called a family. 

His co-pilot leaned against the window, unable to tear her gaze from the blast, and he slid into the stratosphere as quickly as possible. He had Rey. He finally rescued Rey. He tried to focus on that fact and that fact alone, but he couldn't forget the picture of a man he called his enemy, sun burned to a red crisp, wearing a grey shirt with his child's painted sun across his chest, dark mane pulling free, eyes wet with tears, powerful frame heaving in sweat...telling his lover he loved her for the very last time. Never had Kylo Ren looked so small than in that moment, and yet never had he been so strong. 

Love truly is the strongest thing in the galaxy. Poe sighed as he signaled base and changed coarse to get his passenger to safety. Focus on the mission. He reminded himself, no time to think, no time to feel, only time to act. Complete the mission. No time for anything else.


	8. To Live and to Die

Rey had never felt pain like this in her entire life. It was as though her body had been turned inside out, her heart now beating against her ribs with no flesh to protect it from the cold harshness of the blackness of space around her. Poe sat in front...a stranger to her now...silent. What was he to say? What was there to say? They flew through space to meet up with his backup team...but she was leaving her organs on the sands of her home. Torn apart, shredded by fire and furious love. Her intestines stretches from the ship to their shuttle. Pulling taut and tearing with every meter they flew away from her husband's body...though there wasn't much left of it. He'd tried to block her out when he ran from her...but he'd lost control when the blast hit him from behind and she'd felt the fire rip into his back and crush his bones. She'd felt the blinding hot pain and sudden sharp crack of his spine...and instead of following him into nothing, she was forced to remain in the galaxy...alone. Drawing away from the desert planet, leaving a bloody trail of agony behind her to blot out the stars. 

The chords that tethered them together where tighter about her heart than ever before, now in the absence of him, and all she could feel on the end of the bond where her husband used to dwell, was her own intoxicating agony. There used to be power thrumming on the other side there, and the mind of her mate. Dark, and bright, brave with fright...all the days and nights. She used to feel his frustration explode within him, used to feel when he was teetering on the brink of losing control, she used to own his precious heart, full of tragedy and heartbreak and unconditional love...she used to break into a smile like the midday sun when she felt his heart swell as he watched his son. The pride and joy of a father...she had felt the terror there as he ran away from her with their baby in his arms, had felt him tear his heart in two as he spoke his last words to his son. She'd felt the conflictions as he fled from her, to draw the ships. The loyalty that surpassed that of anyone in the galaxy, wanting to give everything he had to save her and their baby boy and yet not wanting to abandon her. She felt the absence of his strength and passion and power thrumming on the other side now...all she could feel was molten pain in the whole where his soul used to dwell. 

She wanted to grab either side of his face and press kisses to it fervently...she knew exactly where it dipped and swayed, had mesmerized the way his wet skin had felt beneath her lips, she knew the feeling of his mighty arms caged around her better than she knew the feeling of her own. She wanted to pull him to her and hold him tight one last time, and would have given anything to go back and love him in the stead of her screaming. She knew he felt how much she loved him, and was not in question of it at all...but it was for her sake she wanted that moment back, she wanted to feel him trembling lips press the kiss to her forehead again as he tried so desperately to hold himself together for her sake. 

She wanted to grab at that ridiculously painted shirt and keep him from going. She wanted to lie down in the sand with him and die with him, if only to end this loneliness. She hadn't had her mind to herself in nearly nine years and hated now how empty it would become now. It was not empty yet, that half of her brain her husband used to hold was now pouring forth agony and pain like a wound in the planet's surface, molten lava in the form of death and suffering swelled from it to ignite the inside of her skull, tearing the membrane from the bone and crushing her mind in it's magnitude. 

She couldn't move for the grief and pain, couldn't hardly breath. All she could manage were harsh short breaths through the silent sobs and eve as they landed and Poe leapt from the ship, she remained unmoving, shaking in the back seat as she burned alive, seared and blackened burnt fingers clawing through the ashes back in her home, hoping to find some last remnant on her husband's strong frame to cling to, something to curl into one last time, something besides his memory...but there was nothing, and as darkness finally clouded over her eyes mercifully to end this suffering temporarily she let out a scream of desolate despair, unable to manage the words to tell her dead mate what he'd meant to her and why she couldn't...couldn't live with out him. *******


	9. The General's Child

General Organa had been going over maps for their next airstrike when it'd happened. She'd just fingered one of the outer reaches planet, began the thought of what it was for when the bond had opened. It was a split second, but she knew that mind anywhere. She gasped and stumbled back from the map as her consciousness immediately reached for her sons in shock. It was purely instinctual...after everything...everything between them, everything he'd done, the mother still reached for her baby boy because that was what she was made to do...but then, as suddenly as it had come it had disintegrated in her grasp. The cry that erupted from her mouth drew the attention of her guards-- a ridiculous addition, she regularly told the council-- who rushed to her side as she fell to her knees, overwhelmed by searing hot pain that ignited every cell in her body momentarily and then ended as swiftly as it had come. 

She pushed at the hands that attempted to held her up and waved away the voiced concerns, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. Once again she reached there, in that little corner he'd barricaded himself in, and found the door unhinged and blown open from a deadly force exploding from the inside out. For the first time in twenty-one years she stepped into her son's side of the bond and moaned at the sight of it. There was nothing left here. Nothing left to remember her boy by, nothing left to recognize the man he became, only ashes of a dark life filled with sorrow and pain not unfamiliar to her and the echos of agony she couldn't quite grasp. As her physical body bent over her knees and warm hands were pressed to her back, questions and concerns falling on her deaf ears, she fell to her knees in her mind also amoungst the ashes and sobbed silently, too overwhelmed to make a noise. Her son was dead. She'd finally lost her baby to the darkness completely. There was no hope for coming back from death, there was no light for the dead. 

*******  


When she finally rose from her kneeling position, she staggered over to her desk and collapsed against it, hands shakily re-securing her bun and smoothing out her uniform. 

“Are you alright, General?” One of her hulking guards frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. “Yes, Den, I'm alright.” She lied smoothly, ironing out the trembles in her voice. She would grieve for he son, Dark force or not, murderer or not, he was her son and he was dead. She would grieve him in private though, not to show and dishearten her weary troops. Many of them hated Kylo Ren with a livid passion and had every right to. Many had lost loved one's to his slaughter...she had as well. There would be celebrations over this victory that she would not dampen...but would not partake in either. Instead, in her solitude she would mourn the twisted life of her son cut short so young. She'd lost him long ago, but now she had no hope of ever getting him back again. “Ceel,” She spoke into the comm in a cool, collected tone of a general in a war, not a mother and grieving widow. “Have you made contact with Blue 4 since his last checkpoint?” She pulled up a map of the planet Poe had been following First Order chatter to. 

“Yes, General,” he just made contact a few moments ago, “He reports that his mission was accomplished and he will meet the back up tactic team at the rondevue...”Ceel's voice trailed off, though the General could still hear her uncertain breaths on the other end of the receiver. 

“Ceel? Anything else?” She asked gently. 

“Yes...umm...Kylo Ren is confirmed d-dead.” the communications girl added hesitantly. 

“I know, it's alright dear.” The General gave a sad smile at her laced fingers. “I felt it. Anything else?” 

The girl sighed in relief at the general's reaction and added with much more enthusiasm, “Yes! They found Rey.” 

The general's heart lurched painfully. Han and Rey...those were her son's kills that wounded her most deeply. Those where the deaths that made him truly unredeemable. Those were coldblooded murders. 

“Alright.” Her voice trembled a slight bit before she mastered it again. “Contact Forc and have him prepare a burial pod-” She began, shutting her eyes against unshed tears. 

“No! No General! She's alive! Blue 4 confirmed she's alive!” 

Leia stared dumbly at her map, not fully comprehending what she was saying, “Wh-What?” She finally mumbled. 

“Rey's alive, General Organa?” 

“Is she alright?” Leia leaned forward and gripped her desk harshly. 

“Poe say she's a little banged up, but is healthy physically. Here, he's patched in on the other line.” 

“Poe?” Leia asked anxiously into the other line. There was heavy breathing and uncomfortable shuffling, but he didn't respond. “Poe can you hear me?” She asked, trying to ignore the fact that both of them were uncomfortable with. Her son's death. 

“Yes.” He responded hesitantly, “Loud and clear, General.” 

“I want a full mission report,” she demanded. 

“Umm...Respectfully General, I'd prefer if you came here for the debrief.” He responded uncomfortably. 

“Poe, it's alright.” She sighed, running a hand over her face, “I felt it happen, alright, I know. It's alright. I'm alright. Please just give me a mission report.” 

“Yeah...well...” He sighed, “Listen, General, Rey felt it too, and it's...there's something wrong with her...I mean as soon as it...um...” He coughed uncomfortably, “As soon as it happened she collapsed, and was experiencing some sort of paralysis...she's passed out now...but-” 

“Is she alright? What did Be- Kylo Ren do to her?” Her voice trembled again and she grit her teeth in frustration at her emotional frailty. 

“Umm, nothing...I mean...Look, General Organa, I'd really appreciate to do this off the airways, I'd like it to go straight to you...For...for Rey's sake.” 

She sucked in a deep breath that hissed against her teeth. What had he done to the girl for these past seven years? Where had he been holding her? How had he been holding her hostage? Why couldn't Poe speak about it on the airways...for Rey' sake? She felt sick. Surely Ben hadn't- hadn't- but then Ben died years ago...decades ago actually. Kylo Ren was capable of anything. She couldn't believe that he'd actually force himself upon her or harm her in sexual manner...but then she didn't really know the man she used to call son did she? She wanted to protect Rey's decency and honor if that's what Poe was worried about...she balled her hands into fists and spoke through an unavoidably strained voice, 

“Thank you, Poe. I will leave in a shuttle immediately, I should be there within three hours.” 

“General, that sounded way worse that it was...I mean it was...It's awful...but it wasn't...I mean...” Her best Pilot gave a frustrated huff interpreted as static and ended with, “I just want to protect Rey. You just need to be here to understand.” 

She frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I'll be there Poe. Hae you made contact with the Tact-team?” 

“Yes, confirmed,” He replied following her lead and getting back to business. 

“I will meet you there in three hours.” She confirmed, “Thank you, Poe.” 

“Blue 4 confirmed.” Came the clipped response. “Awaiting your arrival General.” His end of the connection ended and she turned back to Ceel's channel. 

“Ceel, I need a shuttle to-” 

“Already awaiting you, General,” The girl said over the comms, “And staff has already loaded your luggage, “They are awaiting your arrival for take off.” 

Leia gave a weak smile and stood up. “Thank you, Ceel. You are a miracle worker.” 

“That's what they tell me.” Came the bright reply. “May the force be with you General.” 

“And you, Ceel.” She responded in kind striding purposefully to the hangar.   


******* 

“General!” He rushed forward to meet her, “Rey's in the med pod, Ophi is running some tests...we don't know what's wrong with her, she just-” 

“Poe,” The General's tone was icy cold and steel hard, “I need to know, what did Kylo Ren do to Rey that you couldn't discuss over the airways.” 

Poe looked at her hesitantly. How was he supposed to put it into words? He knew what the General was thinking happened...He'd thought that too when he'd found Rey's clothes...but he'd seen them..he'd watched them... he'd felt Kylo Ren's terror for Rey and there son...and he knew the validity in it...how was he supposed to tell the General all that? How was he supposed to voice this unbelievable truth...tell the General maybe her son wasn't completely gone after all...nice to know...now that he was dead. The General took his silent staring the wrong way and stopped short, breaths suddenly coming in short huffs of fury at her child for atrocities against Rey, Poe didn't think ever happened. 

“No, no it wasn't—He loved her, General!” He finally blurted out, and was propelled further by the baffled look the General was wearing. “And she loved him! And I didn't want the Resistance to know yet because-- I know it doesn't sound believable...but I saw them with my own two eyes! They were hiding from the war, and the Resistance, and the First Order, and they've been there on that planet for Seven years! And the First Order killed him for it! It wasn't me General, I didn't kill Kylo Ren, the First Oder did! He died saving Rey, and their son,and Rey felt it through the force or something and now she can't move, won't even wake up and I don't know what that means, but I do know that he didn't hurt her because he died for her, General. I don't know how the Resistance will respond and I didn't' want them to turn on Rey and lynch her or something and I didn't know what to do, General! So I called you here. I was hoping you might have an idea how to handle it all.” He finished lamely, panting breathlessly with nervous anxiety and eyeing the shocked General cautiously as she processed his avalanche of information. 

“You're telling me...” Her voice trailed off and she looked at him wildly, in hope and disbelief, “My son died for Rey? You're telling me, he didn't-- He saved her?” 

“Yes, General,” He nodded. 

Tears flooded her worn eyes and she gave him a tight smile, “Thank you, Poe. Where is she?” 

“Med pod,” He responded,waiting for it all to sink in. She began walking in the direction of the tact-team's shuttle and he trailed behind her, waiting for it. Then there it was, she suddenly halted and stiffened, turning to look at him with wide eyes in realization, 

“Did you say....Did you day their son?” 

He nodded speechlessly. There it was. 

General Leia Organa turned on her heel and practically ran to the ship, leaving a teary Poe in her wake. *******


	10. What Does This Mean?

Sai didn't last long with the pain thrumming on his Mama's side of the bond...he couldn't feel his Daddy at all anymore...He threw up three times on his flight, and had to take his helmet off...which he was guilty about, 'cause Daddy told him not to take it off when he was flying...but he threw up on the flight which lasted all of fifteen minutes before he crash landed on a neighboring planet...It was good for a crash landing...but it was still a crash and it hurt his empty stomach. As soon as he landed he unbuckled and curled into a ball, panting and sobbing. He had never been this scared before...'xcept maybe when he thought that the Sand Monster was real and it came to eat little kids...but Daddy had rocked him to sleep when he cried and kissed him and promised that even if there was a sand monster—there wasn't, he was old enough to know that now—he would take it down. When Sai had given a teary giggle, Daddy had raised his dark eyes brows and smirked down at him, 

“You don't think I could?” And as he looked at his Daddy's face, crooked and goofy as it was sometimes, even with the soft smile on his mouth, he could see the seriousness in his Daddy's always sad eyes. He knew then that his Daddy could take on Ten billion Sand Monsters if they ever came after Sai. His Daddy was the strongest man in the universe. But now he couldn't feel him at all...he kept reaching out with his force like he was supposed to do when he needed to find his Mama or Daddy...but he threw up every time he tried to touch Mama and he couldn't find anything when he looked for Daddy...it just hurt...and then he'd throw up again. So he curled up in a ball and wrapped his long skinny arms around his knobby knees and cried himself to sleep. Scared, alone, and in pain. Was he ever going to see Mama and Daddy again? 

"As long as you have the force, you'll have your mother and I there as well." That's what Daddy had said...so he tried just reaching with the force, not for anything in particular... just opening up his senses and letting the force wash over him in warm comforting waves...It was big, and frightening though...and he was still so alone in the vast expanse of the universe and the force was so large and impersonal and distant. He cried so hard he thought his brain was going to pop out of his eyes and his nose ran like an oil faucet. Just before he sobbed himself to sleep, he finally felt someone... a warmth... and old warmth...another person. 

And as his heavy eyelids slid closed and his breath slowed and hiccuped another force, a strong, powerful and yet immensely gentle force wrapped around him and began whispering sweet nothing's to him. He curled into it and closed his eyes, too tired to be cautious because he didn't know this force user. He was nice...Sai was pretty sure. So he cuddled up to the warmth of this Force-user's power and tucked his chin in. 

“What's you're name, child?” Came a low rumbling man's voice...but it was a nice voice, he decided, full of light and warmth and comfort. 

“S-Sai,” he hiccuped. 

“Why are you crying, Sai?” the voice asked softly, stroking Sai's little force. 

“I m-miss my D-daddy...I c-can't feel h-him anym-more...” He sighed and settled into sleep. He felt safe here. “D-don't go away...” he whispered. 

“I won't.” The Light respond, and Sai finally drifted off to sleep. But he wasn't alone now. ******* 

Luke's eyes snapped open and he gasped, blinking tears from his eyes. He'd been meditating when Ben had died. Suddenly, unexpectedly...violently. The blinding pain and sudden nothingness broke Luke's soul and heavy guilt he always wore broke his shoulders down as well. The image of a skinny young boy with a smile as wide as the galaxy flashed before his minds eye, followed by images of that boy growing up, growing older, darker, more afraid. 

The terrified dark eyes of a fifteen year old boy who desperately warded off his Master's attacks, tripping over the young bodies of his victims... Tears pouring down his face as he begged him not to kill him, begged for forgiveness...and was offered none... 

The image of a tall dark figure, swathed in dark robes, snapping violently in the wind as he viciously cut down his victims with ease. The now muscular frame strode through ranks as though he'd been born for war and death, and a dark mask hid any remnants of the face he used to own... covering up any resemblance he may have had to that sobbing fifteen year old boy, afraid for his life and terrified of himself... 

Luke bowed his head in shame and wished, not for the first or last time, that he could have saved the boy....that he had saved the boy. That he hadn't chased him away from redemption—but no. Ben had made his choice...Luke had made mistakes...but the ultimate choice was in Ben's hands. He folded his hands and pressed them to his mouth, a low moan escaping, only to be heard by his ears...he was alone here. Always alone...it was better this way. He reached for Leia, but quickly withdrew, thinking better of reaching for his twin. 

She was suffering as well no doubt, he would not burden her with his guilt and shame in their grief. He would reach to her after he'd collected himself. Instead, he sat back up and straightened his spine, closing his burning eyes and reaching into the force to feel it, to find comfort. The vast expanse of it rolled over him in waves, like warm water on a sunlight beach. He could feel the flower stretching up next to him and the power singing from the ocean beneath the cliff he meditated upon. Farther he reached, feeling until he felt the force through the entire planet...and the next one over...stretching across the galaxy and into the next, losing himself in the soft cadence of it and relaxing into the warmth. 

But suddenly his attention was drawn to a flickering flaming tendril that trembled in the wind. There was immense power in this little vine...but it was merely a seedling, just barely old enough to stretch for the light. It trembled in unspeakable fear and grief, hinting at darkness though it's composition was of the light. Luke frowned and reached for it, this was out of place, there was something wrong with this little one. As he fingered it, he was surprised to feel it react and pull away slightly before leaning into him. 

This child, a boy he sensed, was acutely aware of his developing force....he'd never come across a child like this. There was the potential of great power glowing in his soul, but he was far to young to recognize or process it yet. Yet he was so comfortable with his little meager force he wielded, he reached with it as though he were reaching with his own little physical fingers and Luke's newfound grief roared it's wounded head again as he remembered how Ben's unique force had felt straining against his own. 

He wrapped the little child up in his force and spread himself around him like a blanket, absorbing the child's fear and sorrow to deter it from infecting the light here. 

The boy sighed and the little vine wrapped itself around Luke and curled up into him. 

“What is your name child?” He asked gently, forgetting his own grief to hold the child's. Here was an infant who was completely alone in the universe. 

“Sai.”Came the response timidly, through quiet sobs. 

Luke's heart ached at he stroked the little vine of power in his grasp and asked, “Why are you crying, Sai?” 

“I m-miss my D-daddy...I c-can't feel h-him anym-more...” Came the exhausted response. As the little boy said “Daddy” an image flashed before Luke's eye of a large man in a dirty little ship cradling the boy. He had a dark and dirty top knot at the back of his head and a long solemn face. 

Luke could tell it wasn't simply the child's perspective that made this man look huge. He was large, and powerful both in physique and Force Power. 

Luke gasped as he felt the man's power flickering with vivid strength in a Dark and yet...strangely gentle manner. Luke wouldn't have recognized him if it weren't for his force. 

He had a thick scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw and he noticed, through the child's observation that even when he smiled softly at the boy, his dark gaze was heavy and sad. 

“Even if there is a sand monster,” the father's now deepened voice promised with a smile, “I'd take him down before he ever even came close to you.” The last time Luke heard that voice it was cracking through sobs...begging... 

The boy, Sai giggled, looking up at his father. “What?” The man asked, smile splitting as wide as the galaxy. “You don't think I could?” 

The Boy thought to himself, as he paused and studied his father's face, that his father would take down ten billion sand monsters to protect him, and as Luke stared at the face of a man he'd never met before this moment, he agreed with the boys’ silent, unspoken belief. 

“Don't go away.” Sai whispered to Luke before drifting off to sleep. 

“I won't.”Luke promised the precious child. Waiting until the child was fast asleep to let his pain and grief swell up around him like the ocean and unanswered questions overwhelm him, 

“Ben? Yoda? Father?” He asked into the force, “I don't understand! What does this mean? I don't understand!” 

It was his father who responded, appearing before him in luminescence and kneeling before him to give a quiet smile and caress the face of the sleeping child in his arms. 

“Father,” he asked, How is this possible?” 

“You know how.” Anakin answered, raising his gaze to meet Luke's. When Luke opened his mouth to deny the knowledge that evaded him Anakin sighed and placed his hand over Luke's forehead. 

...A terrified man stared back at him, Ben's eyes were wild with fear and dark, foreboding, terror as he set his son in the cock-pit of an x-wing. He took a deep breath to try and control his voice and said, “I love your mother, and she loves me, and we both love you more than you'll ever know. That's the most important thing you ever need to remember, Sai. Love is the strongest thing in the world, alright? No matter what anyone else tells you, whether they be a Jedi, or a general, or a Teacher or a friend, you remember that your father told you Love is the strongest thing in the galaxy, alright? Can you do that?” 

“Yes.” Sai nodded, tears flooding his own green speckled eyes. “I love you, Daddy.”... 

...“Those ships out there, they're coming because they want your mother and I. They can't know about you, alright? They can't know anything about you, ever. You're a secret, okay? Do you understand me?”... 

...Suddenly the scene changed ever so slightly and Luke watched in horror as little hands slapped against the window in terror as the little boy screamed, 

“No! Don't go, Daddy! Don't die!” 

“Go to the coordinates, Sai!” Ben yelled so he'd hear him through the glass, tears clouding his eyes, “Go to the coordinates, you hear me? I love you, son.” he choked on his words and turned his back on Sai, running from the banging of little fists on a glass hood and the terrified screams of a little boy begging his father not to run into the face of certain death... 

Luke moaned and pulled the child closer to his chest, cradling the last remnant of Ben there was left in the universe. He stared back at his father's immortal face, blurring the image in his tears as Anakin gave him a tired smile and replied, 

“You know what this means, Luke.” Luke nodded. It meant like like Darth Vader, Kylo Ren had eventually decided that his son was more precious than any power...his son was someone worth dying for. 

As Anakin faded away again and he coddled the small child in his arms, a broken smile wound it's way around his lips as Luke realized he didn't need to mourn his mistake... 

Ben had found the light on his own. 

Many lives had been paid for it, including Ben's own...but he had found something worth loving and dying for. 

Luke held the most precious person of Ben Solo's life and death in his arms.


	11. Nightmares and Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Here's another D.-dump! Enjoy and comment! <3
> 
> -D.

*******

Finn moaned at twisted violently in the throes of a nightmare. Sweat painted his skin and mingled with his blood. Snow began to fall quietly, and he hardly even noticed--although he’d never seen snow in person before. It was soft and cold and pure white, but it flickered red as Kylo Ren approached him, saber humming, shoulders heaving in fury. 

Tears stung in Finn’s eyes as he grit his teeth and roared at the monster. AS though he had a right to have fury! He’d killed Han, he might have killed Rey...he couldn’t get the sharp crack her body had made as it was hurled into the tree out of his head. His heartbeat was going so fast it was more of a humm than a rhythm and it harmonized with hise opponent's lightsaber as he threw himself forward, hoping his anger and fury would be enough to take this beast down...he’d already been injured, perhaps if Finn hit him hard enough-- 

And then Kylo Ren was on top of him, shoving him into the unforgiving bark of the tree and pushing down, down, down and the heat was coming for him to eat him alive as he could only scream as it devoured the flesh of his shoulder-- 

Suddenly the snow was hot...and brown rather than white. The snow turned to sand and the trees were blown away to reveal the bare, massive slopes of dunes and a man was staring at him. Kylo Ren was staring at him, but he wasn’t him...he was...a child? Kylo Ren was...different. Replacing the thick dark robes were year-old rags, his hair was mostly pulled away from his face in a knot at the top of his skull, he had a thick gnarled scar across his face--Rey put that there, his brain was able to flounder up and answer to that--, he was...pink? Yes, the sun was painting him a violent pink, and blisters bubbled across his shoulders as he shuffled the child--Finn?-- into a pilot seat. 

“Those ships out there,” It was strange to hear his voice outside the mask. It was trembling...terrified...ships? What ships? Had the resistance found them? Was Finn a captive? Would they rescue him? Even if he’d left them?? Kylo Ren continued, “they're coming because they want your mother and I. They can't know about you, alright? They can't know anything about you, ever. You're a secret, okay? Do you understand me?” 

Secret? Was this a dream? It was so real...so real...he could feel a much smaller heart than his own drilling insistently in it’s tiny little ribcage. He could smell the fumes of the ship as it started up… 

“That's what the timer is for. If your Mama's not here when you hit zero-” Kylo Ren choked on his own words,“You leave her here. Kay? You might have to leave both your mother and I here, but it's going to be okay, because you remember what I said?” 

“That love is the strongest this in the galaxy?”The child's face twisted suspiciously. Finn wanted out of this dream, he wanted to scream and pound the living daylights out of the man in front of him for killing Rey. And Simultaneously he wanted to pull this little child into his arms and hide him from this monster...but the monster loved the child. 

He wanted out of this dream, it made no sense. 

Time skipped again. 

“Daddy,” Daddy? Finn needed out. Needed out. What was his brain doing to him? “ are you and Mama going to die?” The child asked with a both terrified and knowing look. Die? Who was going to kill them? 

“The force is with you, Sai.” Kylo Ren promised instead of answering...wait, someone was going to kill Kylo Ren? “And as long as the force is with you, you'll have your mother and I as well.” he pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead and Finn squirmed. He was going to be sick, violently, and wretchedly sick. 

“No! Don't go, Daddy! Don't die!” Tiny hands beat the windshield...and everything happened so quickly...the timer ticked down, and he slingshotted out into space and the ships came after him, but Kylo crushed them and then he was hurtling into space and the coolant flap failed he’d been shot too many times, and he was spiraling out of control and vomiting, and trying to pull up in time to not flatten himself on the planet’s surface, and pulled the emergency chute but it didn’t work. And little hands worked magic and the ship crashed but didn’t crush and he cried, and wretched and tried to get out but the hull was crunched closed and he was trapped, and there wasn’t enough air and he was supposed to get to Luke, Luke would take care of him, but he was going to die here and he couldn’t breathe-- 

Finn woke up gasping. Shudders shaking his entire frame, muscles twitching and seizing without command. He sat up and turned to face the room, certain that Kylo Ren was there...or the ships, coming for them, or...what was real? What was that? He considered vomiting for a moment but decided on a glass of water instead. He stood and swayed for a moment as his vision threatened to fail him altogether and leaned heavily against the wall. When his vision returned to his control he righted his pants as they were twisted around him from his thrashing. He didn’t bother putting a shirt on as he staggered into the kitchen, tripping over an antique engine piece, and fumbling around the ice-box for a bottle. He straightened as he drank, metal pieces of his artificial spine clicking quietly as he did so. The resistance had replaced his severed spine with a robotic one and their best medics had repaired much of his Central Nervous system when Kylo Ren had halved it. 

Finn glanced around the room at all the antiques and small appliances he had littering every horizontal space. He sighed, at this rate he’d never pay the resistance back. He wasn’t skilled in much, and polishing and refurbishing antiques only made you so much when you were stuck on this side of the city. He might have to go back and serve the resistance for a few more years if he wanted to remove his debt. He couldn’t go back though, he couldn’t go back to those bases, those corridors those hangars where Rey had been. He couldn't. He thought that maybe a few years would take away some of the pain. It had been seven. Nothing had changed. 

He took another swig of water and swished it around his mouth. Clicking the BroadCast screen on and leaning against the counter. If he’d become proficient in anything over the past seven years it was distracting himself. A brightly colored add flashed across the screen and he sipped at his water. 

“Next up!” The announcer chattered excitedly, “We got the exclusive privilege of going live with our ProtectiveForce as they explore a recent crash landing! They are suiting up! We’ll be back in ten minutes to investigate what this,” The camera showed a picture of a crashed X-wing, half buried in debris, “Little ship is doing, on illegal burial grounds, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get an exclusive look at the sentencing as well.” Eyebrows waggled excitedly and Finn’s mouth ran dry. 

It wasn’t a dream. Well, it was a dream..but it wasn’t just a dream. They buried trespassers on illegal burial grounds. Buried them alive. And if his dream was true...there was a kid in that shuttle. A kid who needed to get to Luke. 

Finn dropped the bottle and grabbed his go bag and a sweatshirt as he flew out the door...ten minutes...ten minutes. He was five minutes away. He stuffed a blaster down the back of his waistband and pulled his shirt on as he ran down the rusted flights of stairs on his apartment building. 

“Well, hello, baby!” One of the neighboring females called as he struggled with the article of clothing. She rolled her eyes as he ignored her, and went back to her previous interest. 

He had to get there in time. He had to reach that shuttle before the ProtectiveForce. 

******* 

From across the galaxy Luke nodded in satisfaction. The man had taken the idea. 

'Don’t worry, little one. Someone is coming for you. Someone is coming.' 

The little tendril of light hummed contentedly in his arms but did not wake. 

*******


	12. Like A Broken Kyber

Ophi was trying to calm an agitated Rey who was gripping a child's drawing harshly against her chest, her hair was falling from it's ties in thick, bloody bunches and in a wild tangle over her wide and frightened eyes, trying to back off the med-table in disorientation when the general entered. 

“Hey, Hey, you're okay Rey...Rey? That's your name, right? I'm glad to see you're awake...listen you're going to be okay, alright? You're okay.” 

“Who-who are you? Where am I?” She gasped, looking around her frantically, Leia fingered her force gently, trying to find the woman's consciousness and comfort her. Rey's force was a turbulence of pain and overwhelming agony the General quickly withdrew in pain. 

“My name is Ophi,” the agent responded with a charming smile despite her horned appearance. “I'm just trying to make sure you guys are alright, kay? You're on a ship called the Millennium, you've been rescued. You're okay, you're going to be alright.” She reached out a hand to comfort the woman but Rey lurched off the table and scrambled back from her. 

“No no no no no...” She was murmuring, “That's what he said... he said we were all going to be okay, he lied to me.” She gasped, tears trailing down her cheeks...”he said he'd never...he'd lied to me! Ky....” She moaned and dropped to the ground, curling up into a little ball and sobbing. Well, it was better than paralysis, the General noted as she signaled Ophi to give the woman some space and approached her herself. 

“Rey,” She murmured, “Rey, can you look at me?” She knelt down in front of the young woman , wincing as her joints protested. 

Rey's flooded hazel eyes rose to meet hers and suddenly she tore them away from Leia's gaze as though she'd been burned by it. She shook her head frantically and her hair fell in front of her face. Her whole frame shuddered with her sobs and Leia tried to hide her worry. This grief was endangering Rey's life. She could feel darkness and suffering wrapping it's tendrils around Rey's broken heart and tugging her soul to it's depths...The general didn't know the whole story...but by the way Rey's consciousness bled, she was fairly certain she was suffering the withdrawal of a force bond...a very strong one. 

“Rey,” She cupped either side of the woman's face gently and turned her head to make her look at her. Rey's eyes strained away from her, but she didn't' pull away otherwise. “Rey, sweet child, you must let m help you...you must let me ease this.” 

“No.” Rey's head shook timidly from between the General's hands and she still refused to look at her. “No, I don't want you....I can't....not you...just leave me here...just let me--” 

“keep reaching for him?” She asked probingly, Rey's hazel iris's snapped to meet hers. Ahhh, the General had guessed it, Rey had been force bonded with her son. She didn't know how....or why....but at least she knew now. “You can't, Rey. You're not going to find him.” Tears slipped down her own cheeks as she stared the frightened youngling in the eye unflinchingly, “You need to stop reaching into that abyss, all it's going to do is keep hurting you. He's not there any more,” Her voice was husky, “You can't bring him back.” 

“I want to go with him!” Rey wailed, pulling away from the General and curling in a tight ball, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. “I- just- want him-back.” She gasped in pain, “I can't live..not without him...” The General couldn't mask the cry that tore itself from her chest. Not only had Kylo Ren loved this woman so much he gave his life for hers...She loved him in return so much she'd rather have died with him...this realization thrilled and broke her heart. Rey moaned,“Sai!” 

“And for the sake of the child you carry!” Leia finished and stared the shocked girl in the eye to watched her process it. 

“The child...?” Rey breathed, staring in question at the General and then eyes widening as her hand flew to her stomach. “No...” She murmured again, “No, Ky! Ky! Don't-- you can't---I can't---AHHHHH!” She doubled over screaming and the general felt terror for the first time in years. Rey couldn't speak over the sobs and moans but she nodded her head against the General's chest and the general sighed in relief, reaching with her force to finger Rey's consciousness again, wincing at the searing pain emanating from it. “Rey, I'm going to enter the bond on your side, alright? I need to try and heal the ends before it kills you and your baby, alright? But that mean's I'm going to have to invade that bond...it's going to hurt, alright?” 

Again the trembling woman nodded without the words left to speak. Leia closed her eyes and reached for the bond, so strong and vivid in youth, so broken and severed so short...so young. She rocked Rey in her arms as she felt the depth of her pain and loss and began to know a man she'd never met before...not a frightened boy named Ben, or a sadistic killer named Kylo Ren, but a passionate, protective lover named Ky, who died in the explosion of his only real home wearing his son's painted shirt. She reached deeper and deeper, going past the most private and precious pieces of this bond, trying to brush past them to preserve their value for Rey and reached for the torn ends of the bond trying to reel them back in and tie Rey up before she bled out into the black abyss of emptiness and loss. 

As she began the bloody task of pulling the chords back into Rey's conciseness, when they had so long belonged in Ky's, she suddenly felt a slight tug back and dropped the chords with a gasp. Again she explored the chords and hesitantly wandered into the abyss to cautiously find where they lead...and found a faint, crackling hum on the other end, broken, red, spitting blood like rain of fire and furious love like a broken Kyber crystal in a light saber... she squinted at the light and inched closer, realizing that the pain was emanating from it, that faint sparking. 

She gasped again and reached back to slam the door shut, keeping Rey closed off, and felt the girl finally go limp in her arms in unconsciousness, suddenly painless. 

But the pain was still here, on the other side of the bond, still overpowering and intoxicating, still too horrid to allow for consciousness, Leia swayed and collapsed on and ashen ground, equilibrium swirling around her like the cosmos. 

In horrid pain and agony she reached for the spitting red light with her healing touch and as soon as the fingered it, it came to life, screaming, writhing, wailing...but alive... blessedly and horridly alive. 

Her son was not, dead. 

Kylo Ren still lived. *******


	13. Careful What You Wish For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...So....This is from General Hux's perspective...to give you some insights as to where Kylo is....
> 
> Originally Hux did not have a large role in this story...but after writing this chapter I was hooked on his character. He's...fascinating. To me. ;) SO, get to know him. He's gonna be here for a while! ;) 
> 
> Note: for those of you who don't know who General Hux is, or don't remember...he's the Ginger Space Nazi in episode 7. That should help. ;) 
> 
> Kudos, my beautiful readers! 
> 
> -D.

General Armitage Hux had picked up a less than desirable nervous twitch he needed to break; picking at his nails. It was uncivilized and disgustingly primitive...but it was a habit he’d developed unconsciously, nonetheless, under the strain of the past few years. Thus here he was, leaning against the counter in the med room they were holding Kylo Ren’s bacta tank in and picking at his nails as he watched him. What was left of him. 

The man’s spine had been severed in five places, fractured his skull all the way around, broken nearly every rib in his chest cavity, he’d lost all four limbs, all skin and most of his muscles had been melted away and he’d been left a disgusting and disturbing mess of boiled tissue and shattered bones. You couldn’t recognize an inch of him. The Supreme Leader wanted him anyways though. Figures. He always wanted Ren. So their best medical team had reassembled Phrik based skeletal limbs and were attempting to regrow cultured muscle and tissue over the bones, though they didn’t have any skin to graft. They were working on a substitute. His spine had been lined in phrik and welded back together and their best med-droids had done extensive work on his nervous system. 

Hux grit his teeth at the wastefulness. The amount of resources it had costed to acquire that amount of Phrik alone was more than that of a small star destroyer. All this to be spent on a traitor. Wasteful. When he usurped the Supreme Leader, this sort of irresponsible disregard for prices would not be tolerated. But he quickly rid his mind of the thought. He would not risk Snoke finding traitorous thoughts in his head. The price was too high. He’d waited patiently and bided his time his entire life, he would not throw away his plans now for petty reasons such as this. 

He wouldn’t allow his med team to administer any painkillers though, they wouldn’t waste those if they had to waste everything else. If Ren wanted to blow himself up he could suffer the consequences. He glanced up from his nail picking to eye the the other man reproachfully. He’d always doubted the other man’s intelligence. Emotions were such a detriment to intellect… but the fact that he’d managed to evade them for seven years was impressive. Hux himself had begun to question the competence of Snoke and the First Order as the hunt stretched on for years… 

He even began flippantly considering the absurd possibility that if FN2187 and Kylo Ren could leave the Order successfully...perhaps he had the capability as well...but then they’d found him. And there had been no hope of escape...and Hux had scoffed at his earlier fantasies. How could he have even considered the possibility. The First Order was Supreme, and he belonged to it. He’d been born into it, and now he led it...someday he’d lead it all...the entire galaxy. Why would he want to run from this destiny to live in a shack in the middle of the desert only to be found and torn to pieces. 

“You’re not smart enough to learn on your own, boy.” His father had told him, “Learn from other’s mistakes, instead.” 

Kylo Ren had unimaginable power within his grasp and he’d thrown it away for a bed-mate. Hux smirked at the unconscious idiot in front of him. He could have had his pick of anyone in the universe if he’d stayed loyal--he was Snoke’s pet, he might have even been able to have that girl, he certainly had the resources to keep her drugged and submissive. 

But he’d thrown it away because he lacked the intellect to be above his emotions, and now here he was, on the other side of the First Order Prisons, being patched up just in time to be ripped apart again for his shameful lack of foresight. 

“Well,” He muttered at the skinless mess of tissue and metal. “You always aspired to your grandfather’s example. Guess you got your wish.” He chuckled dryly to himself at the irony life held, and sauntered out of the med-bay, very much looking forward to punishing the Knight of Ren--and his own traitorous thoughts-- for this betrayal. 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah...nice guy. ;) or not...funny though...but maybe I just have a dark sense of humor..XD 
> 
> Kylo is alive! Ahhhhh! (well....sort of ;) ) 
> 
> Do you love me? Or do you hate me? Let me know! COMMENT! PLEASE!!!!!!!
> 
> -D.


	14. Healing

Kylo woke, burning alive, and deprived of the ability to scream. An oxygen mask was secured over his face and his eyes were melted shut. His eardrums were ruptured and filled his head with a faint thrumming. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breath on his own and couldn’t speak. The only sense he had remaining was his nervous system and he wished beyond everything that didn’t work. 

Each individual nerve was burning down the the stem as a thick gel--probably Bacta--slid along his exposed body...it felt as though he’d been skinned alive...had he? Did he have skin? He couldn’t tell...all he felt was searing agony and the pounding whirlwind of a massive concussion. He didn’t know where he was...he didn’t know if he was alone or surrounded...he didn’t know if Rey got out with Dameron...or if Sai had made it to the coordinates. He knew nothing and could do nothing but drown in unspeakable agony and torment and he lay helpless, broken...and exposed. 

Something warm brushed up against him and he started, terrified at his own lack of ability to identify what it was and where it came from...but then he felt it again… a gentle touch...and realized through his bleary confusion that it was through the force he felt it, and hesitantly reached back. He was desperate for any contact...any hint to where he was...the warmth reached for him and suddenly enveloped him and immediately his agony was cut off. He gasped as his mother’s force surrounded him and she blocked out the fire that was burning him alive. 

Tears poured down his face and he was unable to move...even speak as he was overwhelmed by her healing force as she began to slowly knit his skin together again. He cried out as it pulled at exposed nerves and tissue and shook in her arms as she slowly, methodically, shut down his ability to use his nervous system at all. Leaving him painless, and senseless, falling helplessly into a deep sleep, saturated in confusion and disbelief...she felt far away...was he with the resistance or the First Order? Was she here or only in the Force? Was he dead? He didn’t think so… Why was she healing him? Didn’t she hate him? He hoped she did...as he sunk into her healing induced coma, he hoped for all he had left she hated him. She needed to. She had to. He wanted her to. 

******* 

Leia stumbled into the cockpit, six hours later to collapse in the co-pilot's seat. Rey was still sleeping soundly and Ky was resting as well...for now. It was odd to call him that...she'd named her baby Ben...but he wasn't Ben anymore... Feeling his mind had proven that, if anything at all. Her chest ached, as though all flesh was being torn away from the inside of her rib cage as she remembered the pain that was tearing the man to pieces. The First Order was rebuilding him though...she didn't know why... The possibilities were terrifying. She didn't think she wanted to know what their Supreme Leader had planned for him that would explain going to such great lengths to heal him...there was hardly anything left to heal. She was relieved he wasn't dead, though. This anxious waiting, to see if her son would return to her someday...it wasn't over—which meant there was still hope. 

When she'd found him and opened up the bond through Rey...she'd been so afraid he'd lost his mind to the pain.. It was a miracle he hadn't...she'd nearly lost consciousness all together when she'd stepped foot in his mind...but he was always strong. Always. He'd pulled away from her in a way that tugged at her already broken heart when she'd first touched him, she'd sensed his fear...his helplessness...his knowledge that he was completely defenseless against her... But then he'd reached back hesitantly and at his force cautiously brushed hers back she realized he was senseless...alone in every sense of the word and completely and totally helpless. So she'd been especially gentle as she wrapped him up in her power for the first time in twenty-one years and beat back the pain that was consuming him. Oh how her heart had longed for that moment for years, to cradle him in her arms and soothe the dark terrors of his mind...she never should have stopped in the first place. 

As she began to explore the extent of his condition she was awed simply by the fact that he was still alive. He was so...broken. There was not much she could do here. Finally she settled on his skin...that was something she might be able to at least begin the repair of. Being his mother...she well knew the make up of his body...but this was a whole different level than repairing scraped knees or a black eye. This was re-knitting him together in a surrogate womb. She didn't have any training for this extensive work...Luke hadn't found much on Force healing for her to research...really he was only able to tell her she had it and it could be used to heal force and body. But no one had told her womb how to stitch a child together either, so she closed her eyes and simply reacted to the force and directed her through feel...adjusting as she went. 

Ky let out a broken cry and shuddered in her arms and she stubbornly continued, insistently searching for some method to ease his pain. Then she thought of his pain receptors and began searching his Central nervous, carefully tracing each nerve to it's head and numbing it, shutting the entire system down save for the vitals. It was his last remaining sense...but this was temporary—and she couldn't leave him in pain like that. She wouldn't. Slowly he went limp in her arms, paralyzed as well now, his thoughts a stormy mess of confusion and disbelief. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there...didn't know where his family was...didn't know why or how Leia had found him. 

“They're safe,” She whispered to him, “You're family is safe.” 

But he couldn't hear her. Couldn't see her, now he couldn't feel her either...but for their force contact. As he faded into a coma she could here his bewildered thoughts. He wondered at how she could be healing him...after...after everything. She smiled at his lack of understanding. Would he ever give up the chance to save his own son? Even if that son had turned on him? Even if that son had kill—not his son. He wouldn't turn on his precious baby he'd given up everything to save...even the guarantee of his wife's life. He would always long to protect his son. And even as her heart ached as she felt her son's hope that she hated him...she smiled at his misunderstanding. She could never...Never truly hate her baby. Never. 

Now she curled up in the cock-pilot seat of the Millennium Falcon the way she used to when Ben was a boy and let tears coated her worn cheeks as she sat staring at the pilot seat, Han used to occupy to proudly. Now it was just her. She was alone. So alone. And she was tired. 

She heard a soft moan behind her and turned a bit to see Chewie watching her with large lonely eyes himself. 

“Hey there, you big walking carpet.” She gave him a teary smile. 

He grunted in reply and she gave a wet laugh, “Well he'd just have to get over me soaking his ship in tears.” 

Chewie chortled in a heavy chuckle himself and she opened her arms up from where she sat, “Come here and make yourself useful.” 

He moaned in response and came over to hold her in his mess of warm fur and massive paws. She wrapped her arms around him and he ran a heavy paw over her head. She gave a sigh and closed her eyes, breaking the silence only once to whisper, 

“I miss them, Chewie. I miss them so much.” 

Chewie gave a quiet groan in response as Leia herself drifted off to sleep, passing into oblivion only after her children were safely resting in theirs. 

*******


	15. Broken Things are Dangerous

When Ophi stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer before braving the social atmosphere of the lounge, she wasn't surprised to find Uleis already in there, leaning against the counter, head resting against the cabinets, eyes closed and nursing a half-empty bottle himself. 

“Hey,” She said quietly, to warn him of her presence, before flipping the light on. His eyes flickered open and he eyed her lazily, as though he wasn't aware of every motion she was taking and wasn't constantly calculating the odds of his survival rate if she turned on him. His last team turned on him. They turned out to be First Order sympathizers and had turned on him, tried to kill him. He'd killed them all...all but one, the pilot—his father, got away. Teams—even tact-teams—are family units. There's no one in the entire Resistance that knows you or trusts you like your team does. To have them turn on you...to have them try to kill you, knowing all your weaknesses...well, he didn't come out unscathed. “Drinking alone in the dark? That can't be a healthy habit.” 

He gave her a dark grin, he'd had too much. He never threw smiles away like that. “I wouldn't mind drinking with someone else in the dark.” He smirked at her and took another long sip. Defiantly drunk. So much for avoiding socialization. 

“Toss me a beer, will you?” She asked coolly, trying to maintain a friendly face and still be clear enough to warn the drunkard off. She was not interested. 

He gave a heavy sigh and a mocking smirk and leaned down to pull open from the chill chest and flick it at her haphazardly, his coordination and grace even when drunk unnerved her like it did every time this happened. She snatched it out of the air, making sure he noticed how quick her own reflexes were...she felt bad for the man, she really did. But any person who could turn and protect themselves from the family they thought loved them—not only that, but then turn around and kill them—the only people in the world they loved...that person could not be trustworthy. It was impressive, and admiral, yes...but it also made him a dangerous breed of human...a survivor, and a killer. 

She gave him a grateful nod for the beer and snapped the cap off with one of her horns casual, without taking her eyes off him. 

“You want to come join me to go drink with the team?” She jerked her head in the direction of the door invitingly. 

He rolled his eyes and sipped on the beer again. She narrowed her eyes at him, “How many have you had?” 

“Just two,” He smirked again. 

“That's not beer.” She stated, pursing her lips reproachfully. 

“So?” He sneered. 

“I don't think it's wise to have our sniper drunk when we're protecting the two most wanted women in the galaxies.” She growled back. 

His smirk sobered but he still snapped back, “I know my own limits, Zabraak.” 

She raised her left eyebrow in disbelief and turned on him to go visit the team. 

“Ophi,” He stopper her glanced over her shoulder again, “I- I really wanted this one. I really wanted to take him out.” 

She turned to stare him in the eye and told him, “Yeah, well he got blown up or something, so consider him taken out if it makes you feel any better.” She turned again only to be stopped by a quieter, 

“Ophi...is she really...is Rey really pregnant?” 

“Yes, Ulies.” She sighed. 

He swore in response. And gripped the bottle in a way that warned he was just barely containing the urge to crush it his grip.“I-I don't understand the world sometimes.” He mumbled quietly. 

“Yeah...” She softly agreed, taking a thoughtful sip of the beer and frowning quietly at the floor. She didn't understand the world either. She didn't understand why her mother sold her to a Empirical Defect for an engine part at two years old...she didn't understand why she grew to love that man like a father, or why he took his own life five years ago. She didn't understand why the General still loved her son...she didn't understand why Kylo Ren had killed his own father only to die saving Rey. She didn't understand why the Hope of the Resistance betrayed them to run away with their worst nightmare...She didn't understand how Rey could be pregnant, without have being raped...but she was and she loved the father of her child. 

He had done nothing to harm her. She didn't understand...but it was nonetheless true. “Are you sure you don't want to join-” She glanced up from her thoughtful floor staring only to stop as she realized, the sniper was gone. It was as though he vaporized...No one snuk away from her. She didn't miss any noise or movement. And yet all that was left where he'd been leaning against the counter was his half-full bottle of something much stronger than beer. He'd left it though, rather than finishing it, and the warm feeling that kindled in her belly at knowing he'd heeded her warning and wanted to be capable of defending the team and their cargo still...it was neutralized by the fact that that human was capable of much more than defending, and no one...no one...had ever slipped past Ophi's observation before. 

She stared at the counter for a few more moments, calculating the threat he posed and eventually turned away, not finding and end to the list of ways he was dangerous to her team. Her family. 

When she entered the lounge, Blu and his sister Abee—the techies—instantly turned on her to hound her for her support on either side of the argument they were currently having. Rou was trying to make peace between the twins and Drak had his boots set up on the table, laughing at the heated debate. He grinned at her and motioned her over to sit by him, but there wasn't enough room so she perched on his knee, offering her bits of opinion—just enough to keep the fires burning—in between sips of her beer. She laughed with Drak, and teased the twins mercilessly, only occasionally siding with the peace-making Rou if the twins got too carried away and began to borderline actually offend each other. 

As she perched on Drak's knee and threw jabs at the twins or elbowed Rou, she felt home again, like she always did...and yet she couldn't forget the haunted look of the dark sniper...who'd been betrayed by his family...only to kill them in order to survive. 

It was a small shadow in the corner of her mind...but one she couldn't forget. 

*******


	16. Lonely Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And...the Ginger Space Nazi returns! 
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains a somewhat descriptive analysis of a sex-trafficking league within the First Order, references past childhood trauma, and some intense sequences related to these subjects. I am not descriptive and this is not a rape scene, but it is the first order...stuff happens...these are terrible people...I don't go too far into it, but it is addressed.   
> DO NOT READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. 
> 
> I love you all and don't want to offend or hurt anyone! 
> 
> -D.

When Hux entered his chambers that evening he was beyond exhausted. The strike on Kylo Ren had taken weeks of intricate planning and arguing with the inner council to determine how the best route of attack would go...Snoke had been clear he'd wanted the Knight alive, but despite Hux's best warnings to the council against a brute force attack they'd opted for it anyways, knowing nothing else. Hux had warned them Kylo Ren was far too dangerous, it wouldn't be worth the soldiers they'd have to sacrifice, besides the point he figured Ren would be too smart to be taken alive. He'd never admired the other man's intelligence—it was so clouded with emotion—but he knew to recognize and even at times respect it. 

Ren would know what they would do to him if they took him alive and Hux knew the other man was fully capable of inflicting harm upon himself without hardly blinking...If Snoke wanted Kylo Ren alive, he'd figured the only way they'd catch him was through espionage and trickery... unfortunately he'd been outvoted on the council seven to one. Now the knight was barely being he;d together with a few rusty wires worth a small fleet and Snoke was holding him responsible for the man's condition. His mind ached and throbbed as he entered the key code, having to start over three times because his hands shook so badly and his numb brain drifted here and there in pain. Snoke had punished him greatly for this “failure” and yet had found no hint of a treasonous thought in his head. The old creature was powerful and deadly...but a blind fool. He was still completely clueless as to Hux's true intentions, and he would remain that way until Hux's full plan had the opportunity to come to fruition. 

Finally the door opened and he stumbled into his cold, dark chambers as though drunk, flipping on just a few sterile fluorescent lights to expose the bare nature of his habitat. He swore as the light bit into his eyes like a serpent and threw an arm over his eyes. When he finally took it down to glare at the room he was startled to find he wasn't alone. 

A dark woman stood by his bed watching him with large dark frightened eyes that reminded him a little bit of a doe's. Some trophy to mount on your wall, his thoughts sneered in his head. She had thick, curly dark hair that sat on her skull like a black cloud of chaos and it irritated him, why didn't she shave it if it insisted on growing out from her head like that? She was here for a rather obvious purpose judging by her ankle and wrist manacles disguised as dainty ornaments and her scanty dress conduct. She wore only what was absolutely necessary and metal trinkets and beads threaded her slender dark frame in a way that was supposed to be enticing...but he was tired and his brain was raw and bleeding and he couldn't help but squint against the light so he simply glared at her. He didn't want a female tonight, he was too tired—in fact when had he ever ordered a female? He had no interest in one, such activities divided his attention from being wholly in his work and would take away precious hours from his study time. 

Wide doe-like eyes tracked his movements as he stumbled across the room, tearing his tie off as he fell back into his chair, still glaring at her. He hated people. He hated expectations and assumptions. He hated men and women. He hated speaking and listening. He hated pain, and social thoughtfulness. He hated people and this one, was no exception. He hated how she stared at him as he viciously tore his boots off and shrugged his jacket off. He hated how her hair billowed out rather than down. He hated how her full lips were parted ever so slightly in a startled, frightened way and hated how graceful and beautiful the lines that trimmed her body were. He hated that she was here, and hated her. 

Finally he had a bit more mobility and felt as though he could breathe. He stumbled to his feet again and swayed dangerously as his vision clouded over and the agony of Snoke's mind ravaging scraped along the interior of his skull again. His knuckles went white as he gripped the arm of the chair for a moment and he grit his teeth, sending a muscle jumping along his jawline as his vision cleared and he saw the female was still watching him with those large-doe like eyes. Witness to his vulnerability. Not for the first time, he considered killing her. It might feel good, killing again...it'd been a while. He hadn't made up his mind. He started stalking over to the bathroom, veering a little bit closer to her than necessary just to watch her quake. It felt good to be on the other side of the threatening. It felt good to be dangerous again. She was about the same height as him, long and slender boned—tall for a woman—but she shrunk back from him as he approached to pass her. Suddenly, just before he turned to go to the bathroom instead of at her, she withdrew her hands from behind her back and he was suddenly looking down the barrel of a blaster. 

Rage flared in his chest. Her hands were trembling as she held the gun, and she didn't have any of the right triggers pulled to allow her to actually fire it at him, but he felt fury begin in his gut and slowly boiling in his veins. A bed-maid. A lowly, worthless, bed-slave dared threaten him. Had the audacity to pull a weapon on him. He was tired, and in pain, and enraged—he was sick of being taking advantage of. In a sudden, uncharacteristic, loss of self control he let his temper get the better of him and he viciously disarmed her and threw her on the bed, pinning her body down with his. She struggled for a few moments beneath him and he crushed her. A small broken gasp tore itself from her mouth and she finally went limp from under him, staring up into his cold, furious eyes in horror. She could do nothing to stop him from doing whatever he pleased to her and the power that he felt sung in his bones. He was so angry and furious and needed to have the upper hand again. Maybe he did need this after all. 

Their breaths mixed in the air, wet and hot against each other's faces and tears coated her cheeks, though she didn't make a noise and hardly blinked at all. If she had made audible cries, Hux thought he might have killed her. If she had avoided his gaze he might have forced himself upon her. But she did neither, wept silently, trembling beneath him and staring straight back into his eyes in terror laced with a fury to match his own. Dark doe-like eyes glared back at him with the hate spawned by the injustice of the situation. 

The same hate his mother looked at him with for the first five years of his life, as he was living proof of the horrors committed her. Instantly the fury and the rage and the power left him empty as he stared back at a younger, darker face of a woman much like his mother...and he gave a heavy sigh and rolled off her to lie beside her and stare at the ceiling instead of continuing his enraged rampage. 

He was an exhausted and empty shell and the pain in his skull returned full-force. They lay like that for a few long minutes, side by side, staring up at the ceiling to avoid looking at each other. His breaths came in heaves as he blinked the stars from his eyes and hers came in little pants, tiny and broken. 

Finally he turned his head to look at her. She hadn't curled into a protective ball like he thought she might, instead she remained on her back, where he'd thrown her, arms and legs still sprawled where he'd pinned them, motionless but for the shallow rising and falling of her breast as she cried silently. Her dark face—her skin was darker than he'd ever seen before, nearly inky black, with rich hints of brown and red and almost blue or purple as the light hit it...she looked like a galaxy—glistened in those quiet tears and he might have felt a slight bit of pity had it not been for the fact that she was nothing to him and nothing to the world. 

He also was nothing. Simply brief meaningless lives flashing through time like shooting stars only to evaporate. Two lonely stars who happened to pace each other in their flight once. They would not remember each other after this night. Neither of them were anything other than nothing. 

Finally he sighed again and asked her, “What is your name, woman?” 

Her swollen lips opened and closed once, dark eyes still staring forward, sightless. Again she opened her mouth and this time was able to force speech from it. Her voice was low and rich, soft and a slight bit huskier than he'd imagined, “Ahlai.” She murmured quietly, as though she might break his restraint if she spoke to loudly. 

He returned to staring at the ceiling and let the name roll around his numb mind a bit. It was a beautiful name...rich and dark like her. It fell from her lips like a cool breeze tainted by a slightly sad note hinting at it's melancholy meaning: sorrowing. His mind wandered to the faint memories he had of his mother... her face twisted in pain as she wailed. The way her entire frame would wither when his father arrived and wouldn't straighten until he left again. Even the harsh slaps and vocal hatred for him. Nothing to her. Nothing but the product of violence and abuse. 

He almost gave a bitter laugh—her weak slaps and cruel words had broken much more of his child-soul than anything his father had done to him. He'd never had hope that his father could love him. Never sought after it. But his mother...she was a kind woman...he had figured with a child's logic that if she could find it in herself to love everyone else despite what his father had done to her...perhaps she might find some little scrap for him as well. Just a little bit... 

But she was too broken by that point. It wasn't her fault...he knew it was his own...somehow...if he'd never been born then maybe she—-Hux snapped his eyes closed and stopped thinking. 

He took one deep breath and opened them again to view the world emotionless again. He needed something to do with his mind to keep from falling back on these emotions. Emotions could only hurt you. He needed something—anything—a distraction...something to keep his mind sharp. 

“Do you play chess?” He asked the ceiling. 

The dark figure next to him shifted finally, ever so slightly, and she hesitantly turned her cloud topped head to stare at his profile in shock. 

“Wh-what?” She whispered. 

“Do you know how to play chess, Ahlai?” He asked again without looking at her. 

“Yes...” She whispered back. 

“Good.” he heaved himself up off the bed and stumbled back over to the table, pulling out his set and plugging the monitor in. She gingerly sat up from where she lay and watched him in bafflement. “Dark or light?” He finally met her confused gaze. 

She licked her lips with a brilliant pink tongue and finally blinked. “Dark.” She decided. 

“Good.” He repeated, “My move first.” He kicked the chair across from him a little bit away from the table...it was the best invitation she was going to get. He moved his first pawn and glanced up at her again, “Your move.” 

Slowly she rose, metal trinkets and beads tinkling as they brushed her skin as she moved to come and hesitantly sit across from him, large dark eyes flickering from him to the board and then back to him again. He leaned back in his chair and gestured to the board again. A thin dark hand rose to gently tap one of the pawns forward with a long slender finger. 

And thus it began. 

*******


	17. Sensless

After he'd mostly healed, Ky had been ripped from the bacta tank and beaten...he was still blind and deaf, a fact his captor's found great delight in. He was stripped naked and thrown between multiple assailants, his only sense bombarded by fists and boots, every now and again broken up so they could roughly drag him forward and shove his head beneath the water and drown him only to pull him out just before the end. At first he tried defending himself, throwing weak blows back at the general direction he thought his attackers were in, but wound up curling into a protective ball to protect his vitals and trying to keep his cries to a minimal. He still didn't know if he was with the Resistance or First Order...it didn't really matter at this point, he was weak and defenseless...helpless...knowing who they were wouldn't change anything. They were all enemies. He hoped Rey got out. 

By the time they finished he could no longer lift himself up so they dragged him across the floor and dumped him in what he had to assume was a cell. He had no idea. It was freezing cold and blood and other cold liquids felt frozen on his bare skin and he was shaking uncontrollably in the cold and pain. He curled in on himself and tried to steady his breathing he could feel hiccuping in his chest. He couldn't even tell if his weeping was audible, he was trapped and alone in his head connected to the world only by his sense of pain. 

He was thankful to his mother for his skin though. At least he had that layer of defense against his assailants and the cold...that was something. He wondered where Sai was and whether he was to the coordinates...he didn't know how long it had been...it could have been hours...or months...he had no concept of time; only pain. He missed his son, however long it had been. He missed his little hands wrapping around the back of his neck and his little wet kisses splattering down across his face. He missed his shrill giggle and his excited chatter...so bright for his age...and how his wide brown eyes would light up with the same green hints that Rey's would... 

A groan rattle his chest as he pictured Rey's face, her smile, her snarl, her grin and glare; her face and frame had become more familiar to him than his own. He tightened his arms around his chest and choked on tears as he remembered her terror...and horror as he threw her to the top of the dune...as he abandoned her. She probably thought he was dead...just as well...he figured...he would be soon. His chest ached for his wife and he instinctively reached for her force, her solace, her light... shock hit him like a brick wall as he found a vacancy there...he desperately reached and grasped at everything he could...but it was gone. There was a gaping wound there, their bond had been torn and fractured. He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate and his head lighten and spin as panic set in. 

He couldn't find her...he couldn't feel her...couldn't sense her. Had he lost her? Had Poe been shot down? Was the Resistance executing her...for her relation to him? Did the First Order kill her anyways? Where was she? He'd never been alone in his own head before...as a child there had always been his mother—sometimes his uncle—as an apprentice and Knight of Ren there'd always been Snoke...that overpowering strangling dark and then he'd had that little ray of sunlight when Rey had accidentally bonded herself to him years ago. That little ray had eventually grown until half of his mind was always hers and half of hers was always his. There in the back...yes there in that cold dark vacancy...his wife...his partner...his precious mate used to curl up and rest. Her thoughts and emotions, so warm and powerful, used to lap over his mind and comfort him or find comfort in him. 

He felt as though he'd been skinned alive again. She was gone...gone...he rolled over and vomited violently, the only thing passing though his lips was molten hot bile to mix with his tears. Moans rumbled in his chest...silent one's...leastwise silent to him and he pressed his forehead to a cold floor. He'd never felt so alone in his entire life. His heart cried for his baby he could no longer touch and his mate he no longer had...yet his body suffered on...he'd been willing to die for them if only so they could live. How was it he'd survived only to lose them anyways. Death was a vicious foe one he longed to find rest on it's blade now. Anything to end this agony...this all consuming, overwhelming agony of being torn in two, no three...alone. 

*******


	18. Useful Alliances

Maz Kanata had seen many things in her millennium reign, and she wished she could say she'd never seen evil like the First Order. And while it was true she'd never been affected by other evils like she'd been this one... if she'd learned anything over the past thousand years it was that evil was evil no matter how greatly or insignificantly it affected one individual. 

The First Order had found her and taken her captive several months ago—leastwise she was assuming it had been a few months—to torture and break her for aiding in the escape of those refugee force users...she hadn't known what the First Order wanted with them, but it hadn't mattered. They were but children to her, the oldest only in her eighties and the youngest but a mere handful of months. She may have had her realm brought down to it's knees and brought to ruins, she may have had many of her followers scattered like dust in the wind, but Maz Kanata had had more that a thousand trips around her sun and knew a thing or two more than the the First Order about the deepest darkest hiding spots in the galaxy. She hadn't hesitated in hiding those children. She didn't regret it now—though she'd be willing to regret a whole lot more if they'd give her a blanket. 

It was freezing here in this cell. They knew how she hated the cold...the coldest it ever got on Takodona was 40 degrees Fahrenheit and she certainly didn't handle anything colder. She had huddled up in her corner after they'd finished with her the last time and wrapped her thin arms about her in vain attempt to hold in non-existent body heat. She hadn't moved since. It was a futile attempt, she didn't have enough mass to keep herself warm. 

No one had entered or left for three days now and she knew something had drawn the attention of the First Order. Certainly they grew bored of the Pirate Queen's half-truths that always led them around in circles no matter what they did to her, but that certainly wasn't a good reason to neglect a prisoner like herself. She was almost recovered now and would promise to be even more difficult than before for them, these foolish children. It was when they threw another Force Sensitive in her cell with her. She knew he must be Force Sensitive because they wouldn't throw anyone else in here. The cell was made of an ancient stone, she had a feeling was from an old Sith Temple's ruins and it was infuriatingly preventing her from accessing her force. The only reason they would throw this human man in here was to prevent him from using force. She didn't have any other cell mates, though the frozen cell was rather large, to allow for holding many force-users at once. 

The man was large and strong, but horrifically scarred and beaten. He had been stripped, beaten and drowned judging by the way he was still gasping and dripping wet. Dark bruises were already discoloring his bare frame and many blow wounds were swelling and splitting. Old lash marks from a whips tail mottled his bare back and wire thin white scars littered his torso and arms. Fire scars appeared here and there as though he'd been healed from a blast, but only partially, she couldn't tell if all his fingers and toes were attached still, but he had no ears, apparently torn from his hairless skull. He shook uncontrollably and curled in on himself moaning quietly. His back was to her as he began to weep softly and her old and weathered heart ached for the child...he couldn't be even a half a century old yet. He must be important to the First Oder though. They didn't usually keep the force users to torture...Snoke had other—more ominous—purposes for them usually. But he gave her no indication that he was even listening to her. She wondered if there had been internal damage to his ears as well, perhaps he could not hear her. Grudgingly she uncurled herself and shivered over to him. She intended to make contact if only to try and strike up a bond of mutual need. Humans—especially males—were warm. And she fully intended to take advantage of that fact. She grudgingly took off her thin shawl deciding to offer it to him as a means to regain his decency. His warmth would offer more to her than the shawl anyways and if a thousand years of smuggling had taught her anything, it was when you give first others are usually more willing to give in return. 

“Do you have a name, young man?” She croaked, stepping over his massive feet and crouching down on the other side of him. He was covering his face with large hands as he cried and she counted five fingers on each one—the average for humans. He didn't respond and she was beginning to become impatient. She was a patient creature, but she had taken her shawl off for him and he wasn't taking it though she was holding it inches from his face and he wasn't responding when she spoke directly to him. If he was deaf he might as well use his eyes. “It is considered polite in nearly every system to respond when spoken to.” She snapped. 

Finally he responded by going very still. So still, she thought for one frightening moment that he had died, but after a few moments he rolled over, almost crushing her as she scuttled out of the way, and began to vomit stomach bile onto the floor. Her heart fluttered uncomfortably in her chest as the fact that his eyes were burnt and scarred over completely was a simple observation compared with her sudden recognition of him. 

“Ben Solo?!” She gasped, he didn't respond, simply gave another moan and bent down to press his forehead to the ground, bare frame shuddering in sobs and tears pooling with the bile. Anger and pity swarmed her veins and she hardly felt the cold anymore. “What happened to you!” He was blind and deaf though and probably had no idea she was even there. She stared in silent fury at Han's murderer and in quiet pity for his son. A thousand years had also taught her people change each and every moment that they live is another moment that they choose, no one is ever truly too far gone...besides, she had it from a less than reliable source that Ben had fled the First Order...of course there was no proof of that, so she'd not informed Leia of the rumor among the smugglers...best not meddle in another person's business without reasonable and defensible cause. Unless of course you are to meddle without being found out, there are many more exceptions there. 

So gently she reached out with her old withered hand and brushed his shoulder. He started and scrambled away from her, whited out eyes turning uselessly in their sockets as he tried to locate her, whoever she was. Again she reached out, but this time for his hand and gently touched his fingers. Again he pulled away, frightened and timid, though he'd ceased his weeping. This time, however, he finally hesitantly reached back and brushed her hand in return. She smiled and let him explore her tiny hand and thin wrist, let him find comfort in how small and seemingly defenseless she was before offering the shawl again by placing it on his hand to let him explore that as well. He frowned, unsure as to what it was and she reached forward and tapped his hip to remind him he was without clothes. Sightless eyes widened and then drooped ashamedly and bashfully as he accepted the single garment and tied it about his waist. 

“Thhhhhank thank you.” He managed softly, though without the ability to hear his own voice he was toneless and almost inaudible. 

She patted his hand and scuttled in closer. It didn't come without a price. She'd been hoping for a possible friend to keep her warm, but she supposed Ben Solo would have to do. She wrapped her shaking arms about his torso to let him know what she wanted and then curled up beneath him, shivering. He hesitated for a moment, and a fresh wave of those explainable tears coated his face, but eventually he curled down around her and wrapped his large arms gently around her, keeping her warm. 

“Well, Ben Solo.” She told him though he couldn't hear her. “Perhaps you haven't run out of uses yet.” 

*******


	19. Speaking the Unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the long gap again! My other Fanfics are suffering as well! But here's a D.-dump to brighten you're evening! ;) Love you all! Thanks for sticking with me!

It had been two weeks since Rey had lost everything. Two weeks since she thought Ky had perished, two weeks since Poe had found her and Leia had told her Ky was not dead—worse, being held and tortured by the First Order for his betrayal of them...for her...—and two weeks since she'd learned she was carrying their second child. 

Nausea had already set in and it was worse with this one. She spent a good fourth of her days bending over a toilet or garbage chute and emptying the contents of her stomach into it. She burned for her husband. Longing aching in her bones...with Sai he'd been with her nearly every moment after conception...in fact he'd been with her every moment before as well...she was so accustomed to having him there now, behind her, towering over her in his quiet strength. 

His arms were always there to catch her or hold her or rock her, face always there to ground her, to worry over her, to smile at her...as though she was the most beautiful creation in the entire galaxy. He was there for those long months of pregnancy...where they were both lost and confused...unsure of what to expect or watch for... but certain that what ever came of it...they would face it together. 

He'd delivered Sai as she birthed him, and handed her most precious possession to her wrapped up in a bloody cloth they'd worked so hard to make clean before. He'd collapsed on the bed next to her after it all, as she drew him down to her for fear he was going to faint after the stress of it all and he had held both her and her child to him as she nursed for the first time and fell asleep in his arms. 

He'd cared for her in the aftermath, when that infection had set in and weakened her, and had done the work of two for nearly an entire year as she recovered and Sai grew. Ky had been the one to carry Sai as they worked, strapping their infant to his chest and protecting him as they worked, never growing tired until the last moments of the day when he'd fall onto the bed fully clothed and booted, asleep before his body hit the bed. 

There were so many nights that she pulled his boots and outer robes off him whilst he slept and heaved his legs up on the bed before crawling over him and curling around their baby boy before wrapping her legs through his and pressing her forehead to his shoulder. He'd been there for every moment... now he was absent entirely; physically and in force. It had been two weeks since she'd felt her husband or his force and though she was surrounded by more people than she'd been in seven years...she still felt isolated and alone with that precious part of her soul, named Ky, missing from her consciousness. 

It felt strange touching her belly now and instead of feeling nervousness and excitement dance beneath her finger tips, she now felt fear and anxiousness for her husband...and the selfish fear that she might carry this child alone...birth, raise and love this child...alone. She could scarcely imagine it. Yet here she was face to face with it. Now when her palm was pressed to stomach she struggled against tears at the fact that she may carry in her womb all that was left of her cherished Ky. All that was left of her husband. 

"Rey?" She jumped at the sound of Poe's voice, caught off guard by his sudden presence and her own lack of observation. She rapidly blinked the tears from her eyes and uncomfortably dropped her hand from her belly. 

"You alright?" He asked, genuine concern molding his face into a gentle expression. 

Poe had aged greatly since she'd seen him last, he wore it in his face, in his heavy voice...his slow movements—as though the entire world sat upon his shoulders—and atop his head in his dark hair which was nearly half grey now. She hardly knew him she realized...he'd been one of her only friends when she'd joined the Resistance, and she felt so close to him...but she didn't really know him. She hadn't had any relationships before, so he seemed to be so close...yet as she looked at him now she realized she'd never really known him. 

Certainly she'd never know someone like she knew Ky...she didn't want to. She knew Ky's body, mind, soul, fears, loves, worries, secrets, and thoughts. She knew everything about him and he knew everything about her and no one else knew either of them like they knew each other...but she didn't want to know anyone else like that. It was overwhelming and precious and priceless and she only wanted that with one person...but certainly there was more to know about Poe. As she stared into his aged, sorrowful dark eyes she felt that old desire, to reach out and know another soul than her own. 

"Actually," Poe shook his head and gave her an uncomfortable smile, "Scratch that, you don't have to be alright...just...you want to talk about it?" 

Talk about it. 

That unspoken thing between them. 

That deep wound that separated them now; she had left him and Finn and the General and everything they stood for to run away with Ky. And she'd do it again. She loved that man more than anything—anything—in the universe... Of course she didn't want to talk about it. That unspoken tragedy that she'd found love worth lying and dying for and left them all behind...had abandoned them...like her parents had abandoned her. 

Poe gave another heavy sigh and motioned to the bench next to him as he sat down. "Kay, how about him?" He looked down at his boot toe and then looked up at her with a deep gentleness and a empathy she hadn't expected. "Do you want to talk about him?" 

"I-I wouldn't know what to say." She whispered, tears building across her vision again. 

He patted the bench invitingly and asked softly, "Do you miss him?" 

She bit her lip and her breath shivered as she swallowed a sob and nodded, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. 

"So tell me about him. Tell me about it. Tell me what hurts." He whispered hoarsely, clearing his throat uncomfortably. She stared at him in incredulity... Kylo had ripped information from his head forcefully, captured him, let those soldiers beat and torture him, killed friends of his, and yet he was willing to swallow that just to give her some comfort. For a moment, she didn't feel quite as alone in the universe and she gingerly sat down next to him, staring still slightly unbelieving at him. Poe Dameron, she decided, was definitely a friend she wanted to get to know, as she took a deep breath before baring little parts of her pain and hurt. 

"Well," She started, softly, "Ky and I are Bond-Mates..."She glanced up at him warily and he gave her a soft, reassuring smile and nodded for her to continue. "So... our force's basically attached to each other and we can see each others minds..." 

"Like reading thoughts?" Poe asked. 

"Sort of.." She nodded, "Thoughts, emotions, images, sensations..when you're force bonded with someone you own a part of their mind and they own a part of yours… " She began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I wanna hear y'all! 
> 
> :) 
> 
> -D.


	20. In the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is a memory, the whole chapter. Just a quick explanation. I'll try and make sure you guys can tell which is present and which is past from now on. :)
> 
> This is where the relationship started, y'all! This is where the ride began. They've come a long way in Seven years...a LONG way. ;) enjoy!
> 
> -D.

Rey grunted in frustration, "It's not working!" 

"Breathe," Luke soothed, "Just, breathe. Open your senses to the force, welcome it in, let it explore you and in turn you can explore it. It's energy, search for a gentle hum or a flickering light." 

Rey was sitting criss-crossed in front of Luke with her eyes shut, feeling like a fool searching for something that wasn't there. The only time she felt the force was when she desperately needed it and was terrified for her life. Of course she dared not voice that to Luke, because wasn't that the dark side? Didn't Luke remind her often of his Master Yoda's teachings? "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering." That was the dark side. And that meant Kylo Ren to her. She knew she didn't want to be on the dark side because that's where that monster dwelled...and she loved the General and her Master, Luke, and they were of the light. So she loved the light and hated the dark. She did not claim to be anything other than a simple person. And so she was nothing complicated. She had so few social connections how could she be in reality? 

"Can you sense it?" She was dragged back to the present by Luke's gentle probing and heaved a great sigh before opening her eyes to look at him sheepishly. He sighed too and rolled his eyes, "You got distracted again." It wasn't a question. 

"I, I just don't get it!" She tried for the millionth time to explain. "I just can seem to get it right. I don't even know what I'm looking for really." She slumped against the rock behind her in defeat. 

Luke frowned and picked up a pebble to start fiddling with, tossing it up in the air, running his thumb along itś spine, flicking dried mud off it and meticulously cleaning it...he did this frequently when deep in thought. "What did it feel like, when you used it the first time?" 

She picked up a rock of her own, to avoid looking at him. 

"Rey, please, I can not help you find it, if you won't let me. It's all right, whatever it is. There are many ways for someone to sense the force, for some it's a physical sensation, for some it's emotional, or a smell, Leia always describes it as lights, she sees different lights in different people. I see images that represent someone's specific force to me...some hear it like a sound-a hum or a song. Everyone's different… what was it you felt when you touched the force?" 

Rey bit her lip and pressed her thumb into the rock as hard as she could. 

"Come now, child, just trust me. I won't think any less of you, no matter what it is." 

"You might."She mumbled. 

"Try." He dared her with a slight twinkle in his blue eyes. 

"I- I feel the dark side." She blurted. 

The twinkle flickered to worry. "What on earth do you mean by that?" 

"Oh! I don't know!" She hurled the rock out to the sea, but it hit the cliff side on the way down and missed the water completely. It was farther out than it looked. She groaned and closed her eyes, pressing her head against the rock. 

"Describe it to me, Rey." Luke demanded solemnly. "The darkside is not something to touch, it's dangerous. Describe it so I can help you." 

"It's hard to describe." SHe moaned, "itś….overwhelming." She opened her left eye just a crack to study his reaction. His eyes held a far off look as though he had this very conversation a long time ago, like a he seen this conversation many times and yet never in reality. "It's not bad!"She tried quickly to backpedal, she hadn't meant to frighten him, or hurt him. She didn't want to worry him. "I mean, the dark side is bad, but the feeling, it's overwhelming...but...itś not...a bad feeling...¨ Now he looked terrified and she sighed in frustration, this was not working. 

"It's ...it's like," she tried to think of a worthy analogy, "It's like swimming."Luke's perplexed expression spurred her on to explain herself. "The first time I went swimming here, I was overwhelmed...not just by the thought of drowning-that was terrifying-but also by the feel of it, and the amount of it...I never seen so much water in my whole life, much less touched it. To be completely surrounded and swallowed by water was a terrifying and yet ecstatic feeling. I was overwhelmed by the thought of death in drowning and overwhelmed by the thought of life and how I would never have to worry of dying of thirst again… that's what it felt like when I first used the force, like I was suddenly engulfed by it, I said it was like the dark side because it happened when I was scared, and imprisoned and...and when Han died." She stopped to look at Luke in uncertainty. "Do you understand what I mean?" 

He gave an unknowing, perplexed smile and nodded, "Yes dear, we all have those signature darkside emotions, itś when you let them attach themselves to your force that it becomes dangerous. Don't concern yourself with it too much. You musn't be afraid of your force, only leary of the dark side. Don't strain yourself, how about we call it quits for today. We can try again later. How about some dinner?"He was back to being quietly cheerful, grief and fear only flickering in the background f his gaze. He offered his hand to her but she shook her head and stared out over the sea. 

"I'll be done in a minute...I...just give me a minute." 

Luke frowned but validated her request, walking off to his hut as she glared out over the sea trying to find a better way to explain it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried again. This time trying to mimic the feelings she had when she used it first. 

Her heart beat hard in her chest and her veins slowly seemed to sing with it as she felt the energy surround her. She swam in the force, relishing in the terrifying and beautiful feeling of it coursing through her hair and running through her fingertips. She breathed it in and her heart pounded in exhilaration as itś cool touch washed over her. She lept to her feet in excitement, opening her mouth to call to Luke, to tell him she done it. She'd found it-when a sharp piercing pain drilled through her skull and she dropped back down to the ground with a cry. 

Suddenly the water that surrounded her began to heat until she desperately tried to pull away it was so hot. She was being boiled alive, she couldn't scream, the muscles in her chest were so tight and her throat was of fire, flames sprouting from her tongue. She shook and shuddered and tried to call for Luke, but could only muster a moan. This had never happened before. She'd never been consumed like this. 

\-------------"In the fourteenth quadrant," A voice was instructing. Then, "Ren, Ren! Are you even listening to me?" 

Rey didn't recognize the voice, and could hardly grasp that the name sounded familiar. 

"Who's there?" A voice hissed. "Get out! Get out Get out Get out!" 

Rey collapsed onto her back and struggled to breathe as dark emotions swarmed her and drowned her. Anger, hate, pain, terror, guilt, fury, rage...she let out a whimper as all the attention of the force of those emotions was focused on her and she couldn't scurry away, couldn't hide as a furious gaze scrutinized her. 

"Scavenger?" The voice asked in sudden recognition. And suddenly the pieces clicked into place. Ren. This was Kylo Ren. He was speaking to her . 

"Release me!" She thought with all her might, trying not to beg. Let me go! 

"Get out of my head." He snarled and then it was as though a door was slammed in her face and she was suddenly alone staring at a cold grey surface of a stone wall separating her from the villian's thoughts. 

His thoughts! She was inside his head! Like he had been in hers on the starkiller base. Suddenly Han's startled face flashed before her eyes and she remembered how much she loathed that horrible creature Kylo Ren. She surged to her feet, still a bit unsteady as she grew accustomed to moving around in her force… she wondered if her physical body was still lying on the ground, or acting out the motions with her. She didn't really think too hard about how ridiculous she might appear. 

She slammed her fists against the stone wall and screamed in fury at the monster on the other side. This was a way she could hurt him-Han´s murderer and she wanted every chance she could get to rip him limb from limb. She knew somewhere in the back of her head that this was the dark side, but in the moment didn't particularly care. She still didn't understand the dark side or the light side, but she understood her emotions, and felt perfectly justified in letting her force react naturally to those emotions. 

She beat on the wall and shouted curses at him, furious that her bare palms did nothing but make weak slaps on the granite. She paused to pant and suddenly she had an idea. Easing her fingers into one of the natural grooves along the wall she began pushing as much force as she could through her fingertips and widening the crack. It began to split and send a web of hairline cracks branching out along the outer surface of the wall and she grunted as she poured more energy into the action. There was a groan and a rumble and a chunk of the wall collapsed in. 

She glared through the crack into the mind of her most hated enemy and thrust her hands into the crack to do it again. She hesitated only when a warm, heavy liquid coated her hands and forearms and crimson red began to pour through the crack. Just a trickled at first, but it quickly grew into a free fall. She leapt back with a gasp as blood painted her robes and hands and ran beneath her boots. 

"No, no you're not listening to me, Ren! Focus! The supreme leader said-" 

An enraged scream tore itself through the crack and two large hands snagged her and pulled her against the wall, crushing her face into the crack. She stared in horror at the face of Kylo Ren, saber wound across his face fresh and raw and bleeding again, but in amounts large enough to gush forth from the crack like molten lava. He roared in fury at her and slammed her against the wall over and over and over and she could do nothing to stop him. Her forehead split as he snapped her against the wall a final time. 

He then wrapped bloody fingers around her throat and a massive hand closed off her windpipe. All of the emotions and sensations and memories of a life poisoned with the reek of the darkside were thrust upon her and she drowned in them. It wasn't nearly so pleasant as she imagined drowning though...it was like drowning in sand, rough rock tearing her open form the inside and crushing her with unbearable weight. 

She coughed and shuddered and weakly clawed at his massive hand but couldn't quite get a good hold on it because it was so slippery. Her vision began to fade and her back spasmed in a last desperate ploy to breathe, but all that entered her nose and mouth was blood. It poured from her attacker and poured from her forehead and overflowed from the crack in the mighty stone managed one last attempt at clawing at his face but all that she could manage was a weak graze of his face, fingers slipping down his cheek in molten hot blood. Everything began to fade. 

"Stay out."--------------------------------------- 

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, it ended. She was alone in her own head once more on her island. The lonely one surrounded by the ocean. She hadn't thought of it for months. The pain evaporated and her eye rolled back in their sockets as she lost consciousness all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, like I said...a LOOONNNNGGG way. They're way past that stage now ;) you know, the "I hate the very air you breath, you're a monster and I want to kill you" stage. We've all been through that, right? Haha, thanks for sticking with me and my random story spastic updates.
> 
> -D.


	21. Out with the Old; In with the New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND the plot thickens! And spices up some with a nice serving of Hux-snark. I gotta admit, I enjoyed writing this one. He's a fun one to explain! :)
> 
> -D.

"Obviously, this scheme is rubbish." General Oru sneered, Hux sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the rest of the council nodded along in obedient agreement. "It leaves the back of the fleet completely open to attack and flanks the air on both sides by our enemy." 

"No,"Hux looked up with a glaring eyeroll. "That is what the plan is designed to look like, not how it is designed to be enacted. It is built in similar fashion to many plans in Yorker's third volume of Attack formations and Strategies. Have you read that, General Oru?" 

He didn't wait for the response before rambling on in a manner that expressed just how bored he was at the General's opinion and hinted at how frustrated he was with his obvious lack of education. "No I don't suppose you have time for such things like educating yourself, nevermind, I will explain it to you in very simple terms so that your brain may have a chance at catching up if you work hard enough. 

It is called a Trap, General. T-r-a-p. Does that help? 

I suppose it should be encouraging to see that it is so expertly designed that you can not tell it's a trap...but I can't help but be concerned with how dim-witted the inner-most council of the First Order has become. I worked for weeks on this project alone, uncertain if I'd be able to out-wit a sixty year old woman with a blaster and her little band of lesser species, yet I managed to fool you simply by putting my code number at the bottom of the report. Disappointing, truly. 

I hope, for your sakes, the Supreme leader didn't have as high expectations as I did. I'd hate to see how he'd react to this blatant display of stupidity." 

There was a communal silence as General Oru, stood red faced in the circle, opening his mouth and shutting it in a similar fashion to a fish. The rest of the council, uncomfortably shifted until one by one they began picking up the report and read it, more carefully as to awkwardly try and grasp what it was the youngest General had designed exactly. Hux began to pick at his nails. 

Captain Phasma entered with a crisp salute and came over to stand by Hux's shoulder. 

Hux stiffly stood up and gave a sharp bow to the council. "You'll have to excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to than sit here idly, as you struggle through the concept of setting a trap. General's." 

With that he turned crisply on his heel to exit. 

General Oru lept to his feet with a curse and drew his weapon which Phasma efficiently disarmed, in a matter of seconds. 

"General, please contain yourself."Hux monotoned without looking up from his nails. 

"Get your Bed-slave off me, Armitage! I'll rip out your innards and make you swallow them, I'll-" 

Hux's icy blue eyes snapped up to meet the General's as he was forced onto the table by the much stronger and trained Phasma. Everyone in the room froze as Hux calculated the best way to resolve the complication. His fingers itched for the hilt of his blaster, and there was an inviting target throbbing along the side of Oru's temple. But if he simply killed the man it would only verify in the council's opinion that the Captain was in fact his bed-mate. If he let it fly, however, Oru would use it as a constant insult to throw back in both of their faces. Besides that, he'd allied himself with Phasma when they were adolescents and he had no intention of giving the General any hopes that he might somehow enjoy her if he caught her unawares. 

Eyes still flashing dangerously, but voice deceivingly calm, he flippantly noted, "I would be more careful as to whom you call a bed-slave next time, General Oru. Besides the fact that the Captain is far more competent that you in hand to hand, aim, strength, and general intelligence, I would sooner find a bed-slave in your wife than in the company of a colleague of mine. Captain, would you escort me to the hangar now? I believe this embarrassing show has made me late to greet our guest." 

Phasma released the man immediately and joined Hux as they stiffly marched out of the council room and left the speechless audience. 

Hux steadied himself as they rounded the corner, before they reached the hangar. The buzzing had been growing in the back of his head steadily for a few days now and he needed to evaluate himself before he met the newest Ren. Seizing and twitching on the ground would not be the best way to show his power over his military or demand respect. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"Sir?" Phasma waited expectantly. "Have you decided about the west quadrant?" This was of course code, they didn't have a west quadrant. 

"No,"He opened his eyes, "I haven't decided. Perhaps this evening." 

"Very well." She nodded and followed him in the hangar. 

The newest member of the knights of Ren was a fourteen year old girl. Jae Ren. He had corresponded several times about her with the Supreme Leader, but nothing had prepared him for meeting her in person. Power poured off her in a mist that chilled him even to his bones. Hux didn't possess any force, but that could be the only logical explanation for the shiver that ran down his spine as he watched the child play with her dark curls absent mindedly, seven of his most trained troopers dead at her feet. Her predecessor Kylo Ren had never infected him with this sort of terror. He was predictable, and angry, and easily manipulated. He was raging and tumult and she was icy and stone cold. 

Stormy, grey-green eyes snapped up to meet his with an unquenchable fury set in her childish round face. A mass of ebony browned curls framed her face like a mane and the red lights of the open exit ramp danced maniacally across her nut brown skin. She wore black robes and a darker scowl, and had a saber at her developing hip. 

"You're late." She snapped. She had a soft, breathy voice, still cracking like an ember in the ashes. 

"You killed your entire escort." He raised a flaming brow in reproach, wiping his anxiety clean off his expression and replacing it with an irritated mask of disapproval, setting the mask over his thoughts as well, knowing creatures such as this could practically smell these emotions. 

"I was bored." She rolled her eyes. "Don't make me bored, next time." 

As if that would change anything. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In the few words that had hissed between those full, childlike lips he knew that there was nothing he could do to avoid this scenario again. Perhaps he'd send less valuable an escort next time...or better yet give the honor of arranging an escort for the KNight of Ren to one of the other more deserving Generals to spare his own troops. 

"Would you like to be escorted to your rooms?" He decided against rebuking her. She did not look like the type to respond well to such methods. Perhaps pampering would work best with her. 

"I know the way."She rolled her eyes flippantly, "I saw the map in his head." She gestured to one of her fresh kills. "Just make sure they bring me water, not food tomorrow for breakfast, and that your technology does not fail you when my Master calls tomorrow. He will want to watch a full broadcast of my dual with the traitor tomorrow. When was the last time you fed him?" 

"He was last fed two days ago."Hux replied tightly, trying to maintain the welcome without snapping at the child and putting her in her place. 

"Good, he can't have eaten in three days for the dual to remain sacred. He hasn't been beaten recently either?" 

"Well, he decided to detonate himself, three weeks ago and is still recovering, but he hasn't been punished other wise for two weeks." 

"Good."She nodded. Before marching off. Short, thin, and nearly prepubescent but more powerful than nearly every creature in the galaxy. He shook his head as he watched her leave. Why was the most power given to children who didn't know what to do with it save killing their guards out of boredom. There were so many more efficient, practical and strategical things he would do with such power in his veins, rather than slash up consols, strangle messengers and kill escorts. There were better. More effective ways at instilling fear, and more valuable-loyalty. He was coming to the opinion that Force-users had a severe deficiency in logic and strategy… but so did his peers who were not- force sensitives. Perhaps it was just him who relied on such things as intelligence and rational. 

"Call a cleanup crew." He told Phasma, gesturing to the seven bodies discarded on the floor. "Deal with this. " Then he clasped his hands behind his back and strode out towards his study, deep in thought and contemplation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-Dun-DUN! And I have introduced yet another key character. She's beautiful. And evil. One of my most beautifully evil little children--um, *cough* characters! Sorry! ;) Stay tuned! the next chapter is completely Jae Ren! XD
> 
> -D.


	22. The Mad Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my OC villain character Jae Ren. Get to know her, she'll be back. :)
> 
> Kudos to all of you fantabulous readers! I love you all!
> 
> -D.

Jae stalked confidently down the corridor like a panther. Red reeked of fear, and fury, and strategy. Dangerous. She did not want him anywhere near her. Metal smelled of nauseating loyalty and unquestioning obedience. She wanted to rip her heart out. They were bonded, she could feel it. But not in a sexual manner. Just...bonded. The kind that is forged in molten magma and rises stronger than iron. A bond of necessity and longevity rather than attraction and passion. The Bond pulled taut between them as Red stalked off buzzing. 

Buzz. 

He was always buzzing she assumed. His brain was buzzing with genius and thought and strategy but also frailty...the buzzing was climbing in pitch and she wondered if his mind was about to betray him...how close to the edge of madness must one dance to achieve genius? Metal was not buzzing, or frail. She was rock solid and dense. She was having them clean up the bodies. Obedient. It made Jae sick. 

Vomit. 

The first kill had showed her the way. It was far. Too far. Men were stopping and looking at her. Some out of curiosity-the next Ren was a mere child. Some out of fear-she was the most powerful the Knights Circle had ever had. Some out of dark lust. She could feel it wafting off of them and touching her every crevice with their greed. She smirked at them knowingly and grit her teeth against the urge to kill all of them. To rip out their innards and make them eat them. To snare their hearts and eat them whole. There were too many of them. 

Armies. 

She would kill too many of them for Red to allow for...then she'd have to kill him and she didn't want to kill Red. Not yet. She wanted to toy with him and see what made him tick. She wanted to find a fear in him he could not shut down like he had when he first felt her power rush through him. She wanted to see the exact point in time were logic and reason succumbed to madness...and she was too far into the midst of madness to trace herself back...he was dancing around the edges...she wanted to watch him warp...she wanted to drink his fear. She didn't want to have to kill Red yet, so she left the lusting alone...for now. Perhaps she would take them one by one and dance to the melodies of their screams. 

Beautiful. 

The guard by her door, leered down at her and withheld her key from her as he opened his mouth to make a demand. The lust poured from this one with experience and she cocked her head to the side examining him. He was tall and dark-haired...handsome and in his mid-thirties. He would make a perfect example, she decided. Perfect. 

Present. 

As he opened his cruel mouth to make his demand her hand shot forward and he flew up to be pinned against the wall. His dark eyes flew wide in surprise and shock and as they studied her the lust drained and the fear welled. Her mouth quirked up and to the left and her wide eyes narrowed as she plucked the key from his hand. Then she took a finger of her force and honed it glass-sharp before drilling it into the man's chest. He let out a scream and she shivered in excitement, satisfaction and ecstasy pooling in her chest. She loved that sound. 

Screams. 

Carefully and artistically she carved her words onto his chest, "Don't Touch." and left him up on the wall outside her chambers. She gave him a sweetly insane smile and used the key to enter her chambers. 

Goodnight. 

The door clicked shut behind her and she stroked the room for any persons. There were none, only droids. Good droids were better than people. She killed one anyways, just for fun. She wandered around, studying the dark nature of the stone work and hummed as she traced the smooth granite walls. She gasped in delight as power kissed her fingers. She explored it. It was the Master Kight's energy. Almost a decade old...he'd been storing it up in the walls of his chambers. She grinned as she placed her hands on the cool surface and pulled. Devoured. 

His power was angry, and red. Snapping like a dragon in her veins. She gave a delighted giggle as his dark force hummed in her chest. She could feel his fears, and his desires. She could trace his thoughts, dark hisses...long out-dated...but a testament to what he was. How powerful. How destructive. It was like a breath of fresh air. Shredding her lungs and piercing her nose. She pulled and pulled and pulled, greedily stealing away his stores, giving herself the advantage of knowing his dark force before their duel the next morning. This was her predecessor. And when she killed him tomorrow she would drink his blood and force until he was dry and dead and forfeited his title of Master of the Knights of Ren to her. Jae Ren. He, by tradition was still the Knight's Master, even traitor that he was, because he hadn't been bested in duel. He lived on. She would kill him tomorrow, and thank his corpse for this great gift. This power, and position and title. He was indeed a great master. She giggled again. 

Funny. 

She couldn't hold any more of his power...it was too much. Too torn...a dragon split at the seams. He was conflicted even then...in his prime. If he hadn't been torn between Dark and Light he would have been powerful. Even more than the Supreme Snoke. But his mind was weak...too weak to kill his heart. She snickered. Now she had his power and understood his weaknesses. She was thirsty for his blood. So thirsty. SHe could already taste it. 

Patience. 

She unbuttoned her boots and dropped her cloak on the bed before wandering into the bathhouse. It was clean and black like the rest of the chamber, the mirror was cracked, and she grinned at her reflection enjoying how cracked her reflection was and how telling it was of her image. She giggled and explored the shower. Barefooted and half-clothed she played with it until it burst to life scalding hot. She gasped and grinned letting it soak her remaining clothing and burn her skin. She leaned into it. 

Hot. 

Slowly she turned the heat down down down until it was icy cold and bit into her red welting skin as she removed the rest of her clothing and left it in a dark wet pile in the corner of the shower. She shivered in the shower. Icy and numb. Calming down her excitement for the duel. "Not yet, love. Not yet." She cooed. She would wait for tomorrow. She had not eaten in two days. She was excited to devour her opponent. She bit her lip to contain her anticipation and red hot blood streaked down her chin. 

Wait. 

Buzz. 

Vomit. 

Armies. 

Beautiful. 

Present. 

Screams. 

Goodnight. 

Devoured. 

Funny. 

Patience. 

Hot. 

Wait. 

She laid down atop the covers wet, shivering and shuddering and numb. 

Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 
> 
> :)
> 
> -D.


	23. Forcible Fasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> m'kay, last one for now. :) I'll try and update soon! 
> 
> -D.

Kylo shifted as his small companion tapped his shoulder to wake him up to release them. He wasn't sure if Companion was male or female, only sure that they weren't human. He unlocked his shaking arms to let Companion crawl free from the warmth of his embrace and shivered as the small bit of warmth across his chest and belly was suddenly absent. Seven years of desert dwelling had destroyed his internal thermometer it would seem- or perhaps it was his damaged nerve endings.. It didn't matter- He was freezing. A few moments later Companion touched his shoulder to alert him to their position and a small, three-fingered hand rubbed once across his belly. Food. 

It had been some time...a few weeks he'd say… at least one, maybe two, it was hard to tell without the use of his senses. Companion and he had developed a form of communication in that time period and could now have basic conversations, using the last of his remaining senses: touch. "Cold," Embrace. "Hungry," Poke their, the other's, stomach."Alive?" Hand on their chest above heart."Guards," Three taps anywhere on their body, whatever you can reach quick enough to warn. "Alone," Finger to their lips."Sleep," Palm to the their forehead."Food," rub across their belly. Food. He sat up and reached out and Companion directed his hands to the bowl of slimy something that was food. He hadn't been fed in two days, his body trembled with the need for nourishment. 

As soon as his shaking fingers found the bow however, there was a panicked three taps to the inside of his wrist from where he reached, and even as he tensed a fist connected with his jaw and knocked him flat on his back. A boot came down hard on his stomach and he felt the air flee his lungs suddenly. He rolled over to cough violently only to have another boot brill into his stomach. A gloved hand grabbed the base of his hairless skull at the joint his neck and the matching fist rammed into his teeth. He coughed again as he was forced to swallow his own blood. 

No eating. He got the message. His captor drew a harsh hand across his bruising stomach and then slapped him across the face. He nodded compliantly. He understood! No eating! He couldn't be much clearer. A knee connected to his sternum as a parting blow and then it was just him, curling up on the floor around his wounds. Trembling. Shaking. So weak. He was so weak. Escape was impossible at this point...two days wasn't too long to go without food...but while he was still healing...he wondered distantly if this would kill him. 

A tiny wrinkled hand touched him tentatively and he started away before he realized it was Companion. Then he reached for the only kind creature he'd had contact with since Rey. Since he'd kissed her that last time and thrown her away. Given her to Dameron. Prayed that he would accept her and care for her...her friend...what if he had misjudged the man? Rey could take care of herself, he knew that. But so could he, under any other circumstance...and look where he was. Tears pressed against his eyes and the uncertainty of his wife's position. He sighed. 

Reaching out he found Companion's face and searched for their lips, pressing his finger to them 

Alone? 

Companion responded by pressing a little finger to his lips as well. 

Alone. 

He sighed again and let his head fall back to the ground in exhaustion. He needed to eat. 

He was too weak...didn't matter. This was imprisonment. He would starve. 

Companion palmed his forehead and he let his eyes flicker shut. 

Sleep. 

And he did.


	24. The West Quadrant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And alive! And writing! :) 
> 
> Just a word of wisdom if y'all decide to start reading this story again, you may want to skim the other chapters again to reorient yourself. It's a lot. :)
> 
> Hopefully I haven't lost y'all in my very long recess!
> 
> -D.

Hux got back to his chambers. Barely. He had a tell-tale headache. A pressing on every inside surface of his skull, his eyes drooped dangerously and he swayed as he walked--as though drunk.  


'Get back to the Chambers. Back to the chambers. Not until I get there. Please wait until I get there.'  


He realized he was pleading with himself and abruptly stopped. He would have sneered at himself if his mouth was obeying his command at the moment. He fumbled with the key pad again and decided through the fog that he was going to have it replaced with a fingerprint scan. It was easier to hack...but then he wouldn’t have to wait outside his rooms on the brink of an episode again.  


“Phasma,” he rasped into his mic before he flicked it off. “I’ve decided about the west quadrant.” Then the door fell in as his code released it and he all but collapsed on the floor. He fell to his knees and pressed his hands against his eye sockets. The only thing to do now was wait it out...all of the medications they’d tried made the episodes worse. 

He was so overwhelmed by the buzzing that he hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t alone in his rooms.  


It hit. First his left arm began to seize and then instant darkness swallowed him as he lost touch with reality and was consumed by the seizure. His last thought before he dropped was that if Phasma was too far away, he may very well suffocate before she got there. The idea didn’t bother him in the slightest.


	25. Fallen Secrets and Revelations

Ahlai had the chess pieces in place hopefully. She had hovered by the board, anxiously awaiting the return of her Charge the red-headed General Hux. He hadn’t introduced himself, she just knew his name.  


He developed the Ilurastoni Equation to calculate the general life-expectancy of a planet based on its combined factors of mass, elements, gravitational orbit and life-forms and wrote the Wensti method of Cultural Integration, Segregation and Degradation which he had used to train the most sophisticated and large scale organized military in all of history--Next to the Empire, of course.  


She had seen a picture of him as one the guards had led her to his chambers the night before, and one of the better-natured one’s pointed him out as her Charge before endeavoring to make uncommonly crude suggestions about what she ought to do to impress him. It was a startling reminder of what she was now...and worse...what she was no longer. She had been disappointed atop her terror.  


General Armitage Hux. He never attended Former school, and tested out of Medial, finished Temperance at the age of nineteen while simultaneously beginning the foundations of his military organizations and then completed four courses in strategy, psychology, engineering and Logic. She had always wanted to have a discussion with him. To meet with him. On an intellectual level. They agreed on very little and would have probably liked each other even less, but if she had been allowed to finish her Title Courses, she could have addressed him as a fellow intellectual. Now she was to be his pleasure slave. Reality could be more ironic than fiction ever dreamed.  


She had decided upon entering these chambers the first time that she would kill him. Used a psychological analysis of him she threw together from previous knowledge and the order of his room and nature of his literature to attempt at discovering a weapon of some sorts...he was a General. She had to assume he had armed his bed chambers. 

Then she had waited. Waited for the inevitable. Prayed it would be quick...or better yet she would drop dead before he reached her.  


No such luck. He had found her alive and petrified, only breaking out of her stupor to make a meager endeavor to defend herself which had gone horrifically south and ended her precisely where she had been trying to avoid; at the mercy of one of the cruelest, most educated, hateful creatures in the galaxy. Splendid.  


But he had not broken her, like she was certain he would. He’d….stared at her. And continued to stare...unreadable. Furiously stoic. Until suddenly he’d let out a breath as though he‘d held it for a millennium and let her go. Laid there next to her as though it were he, and not her who’d been traumatized by the predicament, and asked her her name--boredly, as though he didn’t care at all, as though he hadn’t just spared her a fate worse than death--asked her to play chess, as though there was nothing in the world he would rather do. And they had played. And she had left. And they had returned her the next night. And she waited. By the chess board. In hopes that he would rather play chess again. Hoping he’d rather be intellectually stimulated than have stimulation of any other sort.  


The door clicked open. She trembled like a falling leaf on the edge of a gale, uncertain as to where this storm might leave her...or if there would be anything left to leave at all. And she hoped. Blindly.  


The General stumbled into the room. Or perhaps it was more of a fall, and Ahlai froze as the man’s knees collided with the floor. Her heart shook in her frame in uncertainty and fear and a sudden dousing of adrenaline like gasoline on a flame. He pressed his hands to his eyes, as though trying to keep them in place and let out a low moan. It was so soft, she nearly didn’t hear it. So repressed it was as something that someone had practiced quieting, smothering, so quiet and frail she couldn’t quiet match it to the man who uttered it.  


And then he collapsed all the way to the floor and began to... seize? It was a violent seizure and she barely had enough time to drag the counter topped dresser away from his left side before he could collide with it. She carefully watched the clock and the patient to time the seizure. Her heart pounded frantically, his eyes were rolled all the way back, so all she could see was the whites and he shuddered in a frightening manner. She attempted to roll him onto his side but he proved to heavy for her and she didn’t want to risk applying too much pressure. She managed to loosen his tie and unbutton his the top of his shirt. The air smelled of urine as he lost control of his involuntary and voluntary sphincters.  


It lasted 67 seconds. 67 very long and terrifying seconds. When he finally stopped, his eyes shut definitively and his body when slack. She eased him onto his side to allow the liquids to drain freely but listened in worry to the wheezing attempts at breathing he was making. She pinched his mouth open to look for a blockage but didn’t see any. The wheezing worsened and his lips began to darken. She reached into his mouth and used her two longest fingers to clear the blockage. It poured from his mouth freely and his breathing fell into a regular rhythm of unconsciousness. She knelt back on her heels in satisfaction.  


The door clicked open again and a giant threw her across the room. She let out a startled cry as she literally flew a few feet before colliding with the furniture she had moved earlier and her head cracked against the corner. Her hands immediately came up to defend herself, but the giant seemed disinterested in her and knelt down next to the general. The helmet came off revealing a tangled mop of blonde hair and the giant leaned down to listen to the General’s breathing, finally the giant turned on Ahlai and pinned her with a steely stare.  


Ahlai jumped in startlement. The Giant was a woman. Fierce, frightening and feral...but most definitely female.  


“Who are you?” She demanded in a quick military tone, sharpened by survival and order.  


“Ahlai,” she answered, too startled to realize that didn’t really answer the Giant’s question. But the other woman ignored her vague answer and asked harshly,  


“How did you know what to do?” She gestured to the unconscious red-headed General.  


“I have three years training for and Anatomy Course Title.” She answered honestly, reaching up to rub the swelling spot on her head.  


“I thought you were hurting him.” The woman said rather than apologizing.  


“Of course not, that’s preposterous!” Ahlai was shocked at the proposition, harm a helpless and ailing patient? She would never-- she had just tried to kill him yesterday. She snapped her mouth closed and looked down at her bare legs uncomfortably. “I wasn’t.”  


The giant glared at her disbelievingly and opened her mouth to say something harsh when the General cracked his eyes open and let out another one of those soft, nearly smothered moans. The Giant immediately turned back to him and said very, very softly,  


“Hux?”  


He moaned again, blue eyes feverishly bright as he searched the Giant’s face, as though it were familiar to him. Suddenly the thought crossed Ahlai’s mind that this woman may indeed be the reason why he had not broken her yesternight. Perhaps there was already someone in place who received his affections; sexual and otherwise. That would be a miracle indeed.  


“Are you fully awake?”  


Another moan, this one came with a wave of tears. Waking from seizures could be overwhelming, paralyzing and frightening. It would appear that the General had lost his ability to speak. That was not altogether uncommon.  


“We need to get you to the shower and change you, you pissed yourself.” The woman began briskly, “I’m going to move you, it doesn’t look like anything’s broken--”she moved gloved hands along his arms and legs just to be sure before helping him to his feet. He frowned in discomfort but remained silent, nothing broken. “But you bit through your lip again,"she gestured to the blood striping down his chin before wrapping an arm around his side. "Here we go, up.”  


She helped him move to his feet and he swayed dangerously before his legs buckled and he collapsed against her. Ahlai was there in an instant on his other side, throwing his arms around her shoulder and suddenly thankful for her height. She was the same height as the General, even being three inch shorter than the giant. The other woman glared at her and General Hux looked at her in compliant confusion as though she had appeared out of nowhere but he didn’t really mind at all, he had no opinion on the matter.  


She looked away uncomfortably. The compliance didn’t work well on his face, he should be angry, stern, tightly harnessed fury painting his face in sophisticated contempt. Not...listless...open….vulnerable.  


Perhaps, she thought as she helped the Giant position him in the shower and undress him, it wasn’t that it didn’t fit on his face... perhaps it was that it fit so well that bothered her. As though he wore this expression so close to his soul that it only showed in moments like this of utter vulnerability. He was much harder to disapprove of and hate when all she wanted to do was hold his head to her chest and rock him back and forth. Her face heated at the thought and she reverted her focus to the patient’s condition, while cursing the estrogen that seemed to dictate how she felt about anyone. 

She helped the giant force his uniform over his shoulders. Her breath hitched. His entire torso was littered in a disorganized array of burn marks. Years old, but deep, boiling burns nonetheless. She had seen these sorts of burns before...often in child slaves of the empire. The soldiers would torment them by pressing the head of their blaster to the victim’s skin directly after firing, and sometimes when held there long enough these burns went to third degrees. The psychological trauma shown by these specific children rivaled that of any other victim or soldier in the Empire’s galactic war, for the fact that if they shifted it worsened and if they begged they risked being shot. Much had been erased since the First Order rose to power, but there had been any entire four month long trauma unit on the methods of the Old Empire that she’d completed in striving for her Psychological Course Title.  


The burns were stretched taut across his skin, giving an indication of how young and small he was when he received them. Her gut churned and the urge to hold him only grew stronger. She had to remind herself just who he was and what he had done. Destroying four planets in a matter of minutes made the top of her list. The burns still drew the breath from her lungs painfully though... experience-wise she had never seen so many...a few were usually enough to put a slave back in their place...this accumulation could have only been for one purpose; someone was enjoying the torment.  


The Giant noticed her stare and narrowed her eyes threateningly. “Go get fresh clothing.” She ordered with a chill before turning her back on Ahlai and starting the shower.  


She found fresh clothing in an alcove of the wall, all blacks and greys, stiff and unforgiving. She picked the freest moving articles she could, they appeared to be athletic garb of some sort and struggled with hot-wiring the drawers open to get to the underwear and socks. The first three drawers were a well organized and maintained collection of weapons, data-pads and books. She was startled to see the books. Real, paper, hard-bound books...they looked decades old...she hadn’t thought that the young prodigy general of the dictating regime would enjoy the impracticality of physical copies of such things...then again she never would have thought him epileptic either. There were many layers of pristinely kept secrets surrounding this man.  


“Stop staring and get in here, woman!” The Giant commanded first her then the general, “Hux, wake up. You can sleep all you want once you’re dressed.” She finally found under garments and rushed back in.  


There was a disgruntled groan and the Giant corrected, “Yes you were. You were sleeping.”  


They struggled at getting the man dressed together as he continually fell in and out of conciousness, though it was obvious that the other woman had done it more than a few times in the past. Then Ahlai was pushed out of the way as the giant swung him into a fireman’s carry and carted him back to the bed. It was very undignified and practical. The woman was magnificently strong.  


After tossing the man in bed and throwing his covers over him haphazardly she timed his pulse and then strode back over to Ahlai who still watched timidly from the bathroom door. Not sure what to make of it all. She was beginning to seriously doubt her previous assumption that they were in a relationship of any sort. The other woman had tossed the General aside as though he weighed no more than a child and Ahlai was unaccustomed to looking up at threatening and angry female soldiers so found herself at a loss for words.  


“How long was the seizure?” She demanded.  


“67 seconds.”  


“Did you restrain him?”  


“No.”  


“Did you harm him in any manner?”  


“No.”  


“Were there complications?”  


“He struggled with breathing directly after--”  


“What did you do?”  


“I cleared his airways.”  


“How?”  


Ahlai held up the two fingers she'd used to slide down the general's throat and the other woman pointed to the sink. “Wash. Now.”  


Ahlai blinked at her and--too stunned to protest--turned around and washed her hands.  


“How long has he been using you?” The other woman demanded in the same, drilling.  


Ahlai, sucked in a breath at the causal nature of such an uncomfortable inquisition but the other woman grabbed her chin and forced her to meet her eyes. “How long?”  


“He...um…” She winced as the metal gloved fingers bruised her skin, the grip didn't loosen. “We played chess!” She finally managed.  


“You--” She frowned, uncomprehending and then the right side of her mouth... quirked. It wasn’t a smile...per say...but perhaps for this woman it was a smirk. Of sorts. 

“Chess?”  


“Yes.”Ahlai winced again. Trying to hold back tears was not unlike trying to hold back the tide with one’s fingers.  


“Am I hurting you?” The woman glared.  


“Yes.” She whispered, biting her lip.  


“Good. This is a warning. If you harm him, take him, or open him up to attack of any form before he wakes up, I will personally see to breaking every bone in your body. Is that understood?”  


“Yes.” The tears would not halt...she tasted copper on her tongue.  


“Once he wakes up he can fend for himself, but I have to escort a politician-” she glanced at the clock and sighed hard through her nose, “five minutes ago. So I will have to leave you--” she glanced back over at the unconscious General, “No, I’ll take you back to your cell.”She roughly grabbed Ahlai’s arm.  


“You can’t leave him alone!” Ahlai cried, panic setting in. She couldn’t go back early...the guards never let a slave sent back early get away with being displeasing... if they got hold of her, she'd be lucky if they just killed her. But they wouldn't just kill her they'd--her heart roared in her ears and it did not go unnoticed by the other woman. Perhaps, being a woman surrounded by these cruel and militaristic men would give them an understanding? “Please! Please, I’ll take care of him, just...don’t send me back to my cell. Not yet! Please.” She ended whispering, her whole body trembling. The only thing keeping her from simply melting into the floor weeping with terror, was the iron grasp of the giant's gloved hand on her chin.  


The other woman’s eyes narrowed and she threw a cruel gaze over Ahlai’s shamefully exposed state. Her uniform of metal and beads hardly counted as clothing. Ahlai closed her eyes. What was she thinking? How could she expect mercy from a woman, simply because she was another woman? In order to survive here, she must be twice as cruel, and militaristic as the men around her. She had been foolish in her fright.  


“Put something on, then.” the woman broke her from her thoughts, “And if I find you have manipulated, hurt or brought any sort of harm to him while he’s unconscious my threat still stands. Do you understand?”  


Ahlai stared dumbly. Her heart silent in her chest. Had this giant... did this woman just show her mercy?  


“Do you understand?” The giant shook her roughly and Ahlai nodded so hard she was surprised her head didn’t fall off her shoulders.  


“Good.” She released her and bent down to scoop up the General’s discarded clothing and tossing it down a chute.  


“What-”Ahlai cleared her throat, “What is your name?” She asked, meekly.  


The woman’s eyes narrowed at her dangerously and Ahlai wished she could disappear. “Captain.” She slammed her helmet over her head and stalked out.  


Ahlai released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and leaned heavily against the door frame. She closed her eyes, and prayed.  


After a period of time, she was not entirely sure how long, she straightened and began to explore the room, finding herself back in the little alcove and taking the Captain’s words about her garb to heart. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do about it, she didn’t own a scrap of clothing, so she took it as a license to scavenge what she could from his wardrobe. She decided on a long sleeved shirt and a pair of athletic pants, both black. 

She sighed at the warmth of them and relished in how much skin they were capable of covering. Wrapping her arms around herself she hummed contentedly and offered a prayer of thanks for the provision. Her fingers brushed the spines of the books lovingly and she smiled as she picked up a copy of Emrin’s Rhetoric and Logic of Psychology. This had been one of her father’s favorite books.  


Pressing it to her face she breathed in the smell of old ink and paper and slipped over to the side of the bed that her Charge slept in, pulling up a chair and curling up next to the bedside. She cracked the book open to the seventh chapter; the one her father used to read to her before every test.  


“In conditions of high stress and emotional tension,” She began to read aloud, softly and quietly as to not wake the General, but loud enough that the murmur of her own voice could fill the room and she wasn’t so alone or frightened for the time being, “There are four proven methodologies in which to best direct one’s course of action…”  


*******


	26. Kill.

Jae was awake. Too much power. Screaming. At war with itself. She gasped and rolled off the bed; bare skin stung as it hit the ground. But that was full of power too. Writhing, seething, searing. She lept to her feet and roared in frustration, releasing a neutralizing blast, cracking the walls and caving the floor in an inch. She quieted and listened.  


Silence.  


She muttered to herself angrily and wandered about the room picking up her articles of clothing from around the room, finding many of them in the shower, still sopping wet. She pulled them on anyways. Cold, clammy. 

Better.  


She wandered again...counted the steps across the room. Twenty-three. She beat the wall for a while, warming herself up...stopped before she broke anything though. She didn’t want to break her hands today. Not today. She had the dual today. 

Excitement.  


She had waited for this moment for so long. So long. She wanted victory, she wanted rage, she wanted to slaughter, she wanted out of this room. Now. His power was driving her mad. 

Confliction.  


She stalked out to get a glass of water, then she would find his cell and they would duel. She glanced at the man pinned next to her door frame and blinked in surprise. She’d forgotten she’d pinned him there with her force. Dried tears stained his face and the blood was dried brown across his chest. 

Gross.  


“Please--”He pleaded weakly, “Please, let me go.”  


She stared, smiled sweetly, “Okay.”  


Her force snapped his neck and she grinned. 

Pain.  


She let his body fall to the ground. Continued on. Needed water. And Master. 

Now.  


Metal was waiting for her in the mess hall. She instructed her as to where to find water, explained the conference tech was in place, it was ready for her dual, the other knights were arrived and waiting in the conference room, General Hux regretted to inform her that he would not be able to meet with her, he had an emergency meeting. 

Liar.  


She laughed. She could smell the lie. The Captain bristled. Jae drank. The water was cooling and icy. It froze the red, snapping dragon in her veins and she sighed. She liked it, it was frigid and warm. She hummed in contentment. Today she became Master. Today was the first of the three battles; physical, force, and combination. But her opponent was blind and deaf. 

Weak  


If she killed him in the first dual she won the title instantaneously. Unfortunately the first one was the physical, she knew she could crush his force, no one resisted her force, but she was not certain about the physical. They say he’s a giant. As powerful physically as in his force. She however could see and hear. She would make it quick and swift, before he had time to collect himself. 

Efficient.  


She pulled the water like puss from a wound. Greedily, readily, needy. She then followed the Metal Captain down a maze of corridors wondering vaguely about her broken-brained counter-part, Red. The Captain was anxious, but not in an unfamiliar way. Anxious in a practiced way. Something happened last night that always happens, but never becomes alright. 

Curious.  


The other knights were all there and nodded to her in greeting and respect. 

Respect.  


She counted them.  


Dante Ren. The Monk.  


Maverick Ren. The Heavy.  


Parca Ren. The Witch.  


Furia and Zevach Ren. The Huntress and Executioner. They were together, of course. Their force bond hummed anxiously between them, like it did whenever she was near them. She sneered at them as Zevach shifted his weight inconspicuously to better back his mate. Furia reacted to him fluidly, letting her powerful shoulders glide into place in front of his. Protecting eachother. She hated lovers. 

Loathed.  


Rafiq Ren, The Armory, was predictably hovering near Wincen, The Sniper, as she passed them. He always clung to his abuser and protector like a leech and it merely fed the Sniper’s massive esteem and ego. It wafted around the two of them like the stench of rotting flesh and she gave Wincen a nod--he still a force to be reckoned with-- and ignored Rafiq completely. As soon as another force sensitive was found he would be replaced. They all knew it. Wincen, however, was one of her most well-rounded Knights. He was supposed to be the chosen one before Kylo Ren had come in. There had been a rivalry between the two...and anyone who had the endurance to maintain a rivalry with the Master was a valuable asset and a leering liability. After she killed the Master she’d have to decide whether to keep or dispose of Wincen. For now she tried to maintain a tolerable relation with him. 

Temporary.  


Sorhen Ren. He didn’t have a title yet. He was seventeen, merely three years her elder and began training a few weeks after her. Her face twitched when she saw him...unsure of how it was supposed to respond to him. Was she supposed to sneer? Smile? Stare? Avoid? Heat? Cool? She twitched. And then passed him. An unfamiliar heat that only Sorhen evoked from her, flushed up her neck and pooled somewhere within her. She didn’t understand it. 

Twitch.  


And then she was at the door.  


“The walls will remain open for viewing.” The Captain monotoned, flicking a few switches so the cell doors shimmered and flickered transparently revealing the two force sensitive occupants inside. A small, non-human was sitting in the center of the cell, glaring at the camera in the corner. A large, but bone-thin human male was curled up a few feet to her left. She felt the collective disquieting in the force behind her as the others took in the appearance of their Master. She grit her teeth. Old master. 

History.  


It disturbed them to see their once so formidable and terrifying Master, curled up naked and broken on a cell floor without access to his Force. Every one of them was afraid of him...even Wincen. They all hated but respected him as the most powerful of all of them. She was the most powerful of them now. She would show them. 

Cowards.  


Except Sorhen. Sorhen was indifferent. He, like her, never new the Master. He would only know her as Master. 

Twitch.  


“...the Sith-built walls will absorb your force upon entering,” Was the Captain still talking? She hated the Loyal Beast. Like a trained bear that had the potential to maul it's leash holders but refused to turn and kept doing tricks. “--so you won’t be able to access it once in the cell. But as soon as you exit you will recharge--”  


“Shut up.” Jae snapped, undoing the straps and latches of her damp clothing and dressing down to her bindings and underclothes. She had to be on the equal physical level as her opponent for the dual to remain sacred. They all watched impassively. Sohren watched impassively. 

Twitch.  


“Jae.” Master Snoke’s hologram flickered to life within the cell and the door slide open. She entered, shivering as her strength was drained. 

Ready.  


“Master, today I will kill the traitor for you and take the mantle of Master of the Knights of Ren upon myself.” 

Set.  


Snoke sat back in his throne with a bemused smile on his torn face. The little creature was shaking Kylo Ren--he didn’t even deserve that title anymore, Prince. He was a weak, sniveling coward. A useless cripple. A Traitor and a Thief. Kylo Ren; Prince Ren, died ages ago, this spirit possessing his body was shameful and pitiful. Looking at him now she didn’t think he’d last five minutes in dual with her. 

Decrepit.  


“You underestimate, Jae. You always underestimate.” Snoke said with a twisted grin, settling in for the entertainment of their dual. Rage painted her bones and she longed for it to feed her force. The Supreme doubted her competency. She turned on her wan Master with a snarl and lept at him, his small companion barely diving out of the way as she threw the man to the ground. 

Kill.


	27. Attacker

Companion was trying to tell him... something. 

Something very important. He grit his teeth in frustration at the bombarding of his sense and inability to comprehend. Guards--no--not guards--Hungry guard--Alive?-GUARD! Obviously their language was not fleshed out enough for Companion to communicate what needed to be communicated. Suddenly Companion jerked away and he was tackled by a guard.  


But it wasn’t a guard. Too small. He lashed out with an arm and backhanded the Attacker away. It worked. Definitely not a guard. Too small. Too weak. Not armored. In fact. Not very clothed either. Prisoner? Again Attacker leapt atop him. Going straight for his defenseless face; clawing at eyes, nose, mouth. Scratching down hard enough to bring blood. A fingernail caught his eye. He screamed and twisted away from the grip, but thin legs clamped around his torso and a sharp joint--knee? Elbow?-- crashed into his windpipe. He choked and gagged, tears pouring from the depths of his skull, trying to heal his gashed eye.  


He grabbed small, knife-sharp ankles and yanked Attacker off balance, throwing them down trapping them beneath his weight. Attacker was much, much smaller than he. His arms shook with weakness and hunger, pain humming along his nerves, but even so, Attacker was helpless beneath him. He could feel snarls rising up in their thin chest even as they writhed beneath him and he brought his knees up to their shoulders, even as his toes pressed their knees against the cell floor. There was no way this Attacker was full grown. Proportionately they must be human...perhaps a young Zabrak, but he would expect a greater strength from a Zabrak, his hands that were now his eyes explored Attackers head. They thrashed harder, but there was no horns. Human then. He assumed female because the little clothing they wore was tied to the hip and also to the chest. His fingers found the face. Attacker bit him. He hissed in pain, blood throbbing from his fingertips. He clamped down on either side of the face, holding them still.  


Young. Furious. Intent on the kill. Why? Why did this little girl want to kill him? He didn’t understand. All he understood was that he couldn’t kill this child. The image of his little son’s death painted face from his visions was too much for him, he could not handle having another child’s blood on his hands. But this child would kill him unless he immobilized her. 

Even now he was trembling as he secured her to the floor, he did not have endurance...too weak. His hands found her jaw and he forced her head to the right, a quick hard slice to the back of her neck sent a neurological overload through her system and the writhing, snarling, snake beneath him stilled. Taking her pulse and making sure she was still steady, he crawled off her and felt her arms and legs, for clues...insights. 

Why was Child his Attacker? He found nothing, merely a thin, abused, half-naked form of a vicious little girl. She’d had some skill. That was to be noted, but her size and his experience gave him an advantage he figured.  


Perhaps she was another Prisoner. That would not bode well. Companion and he relied on each other. If Attacker was added to their dynamic it would be a problem. What if Attacker targeted Companion? Companion was about half of her size, and quick but weak. Attacker could kill Companion in front of him and he wouldn’t know the difference. He could barely defend himself against the attack, much less another he could not see or hear. He needed Companion! Companion was his only source of communication--then the thought struck him that Companion had been jerked away before the attack...what if Attacker had already killed Companion? Panic sent him into a flurry, reaching and groping around the nearby floor space, unwilling to let go of Attacker for fear of her waking up and beginning her onslaught again.  


He did not find a small Companion, he found a boot. A very large boot. Thick, cool leather. He flinched, awaiting the cruel blow...but it didn’t come. The boot didn’t move either. His fingers remained on it and he hesitated. When was the blow going to come? After it didn’t for a while he explored it tentatively...unwilling to have his hands injured...but unable to abate the curiosity. His fingers found the crest. Crest of the Knights of Ren.  


It took him a while to recognize it. His hand snapped back like he’d been burned. The air shifted around him as the Knight, whichever one it was, moved around him. Didn’t know. Attacker was lifted from his grasp and he let her go. The Knight wanted her...why, he did not know. He just wanted to stay as far away from the Knight as possible. His malnourished muscles were straining to keep his heart contained within his chest.  
A little hand found his and he turned to pull Companion in close.  
Alive! He tapped above Companion's miniature heart.  
Alive. They agreed pressing a wrinkled three-fingered hand to his chest. He let out a sigh. Companion was alive. He was alive.  


Even without force, he couldn't help but call out through the empty force bond to his mate. 'I’m still here Rey...don’t know for how long...but I’m here. I’ll keep fighting. I will fight to live. I promise.'


	28. Almost

The water ran over Rey’s bare back soothingly and she melted beneath it. She tipped her head back and drowned her hair in it, washing away weeks of grit and filth, but none of her pain or agony. She was alone in the showers. A rare occurrence, she remembered from her time here. It was so strange being back here...seven years was a long time...a distant memory. She remembered a time when she had adjusted to showering with several females at once. All species, all on their way somewhere, chatting laughing, singing, and a great deal of complaining had occurred. Eventually the idea of showering with other was not so strange and she came to enjoy her company.  


She had been here now for three weeks and she hadn’t showered once. She hated the stares, hated the whispers, didn’t want to shower with these women she had betrayed. Didn’t want them to see the stretch marks across her belly as anything other than beautiful. These marks were not signs of his abuse, but of their love for eachother. 

These marks where each a reminder of her baby, her most precious treasure... She didn’t want them to see the thinness of her frame or the scars that littered it and imagine any sort of starvation or abuse. She didn’t want them to fabricate any discussions of how he might have treated her, when they would never know that he ate last. Every. Single. Meal. And when he knew she wouldn’t take any more of his food, he fed Sai more, claiming the child was growing, he needed it more. They would never know that he walked beside her everyday after long hot days of work; her equal. Or that he wrapped her blistered feet and burnt skin after the heat had cooked her for hours beside him. They would never know Ky and she didn’t want them to. They didn’t deserve to.  


But a part of her did. She sighed and pressed her head to the shower wall. Eyes burning and closed tightly, she held her breath for as long as she could and then let the breath go very slowly, before straightening. As much as her broken soul screamed for her mate, she could do nothing to save him now. She didn’t even know if he still lived, but even if he did, they had no way of knowing where he was, or how to get to him; much less how to pull him from the First Order’s clutch...she sighed. Not that anyone would help her save the General. Maybe Chewie...but she wasn’t about to get her hopes up.  


“I am entering, Jedi, don’t kill me.” A dry sarcasm bit the air and she turned around to see the zabrak from Chewie’s crew undressing. She frowned, frazzled and tired and unsure as to why the zabrak was announcing her entrance. “Don’t want you to force choke me or something.” She winked with a sharp grin before starting up the shower and beginning to rinse down.  


“Right.” Rey glared and snapped back, “Now that I'm “converted” to the darkside I’m strangling people left and right. Gotta assert my dominance.”  


There was a silence as the zabrack turned to stare at her in shock. Rey bitterly chose to ignore her and began rubbing soap into her hair. It was a difficult task. She hadn’t showered in ages, and her hair, though brushed daily, was still oily and tangled so the soap was more likely to simply fall from her hair than wash it. It would take hours to dry as well.  


“I called you, Jedi. Not Sith.” A quiet reply tripped across the showers and her gaze snapped to the intense yellow glare the zabrak was shooting her way. “And I was simply warning you of my position because you are a warrior and I live with warriors and I know better than to startle one. Force or not.”  


There was a communal silence between the two for several moments as Rey appraised her, before she gently tipped her head back into the water and quietly replied,  


“Apologies.”  


“Accepted,” The zabrak’s tone was back to light and flippant like the flip of a switch. “Have you been thinking of any names?” She grinned.  


Rey found herself staring again, “You gonna wash the soap out or just leave it there for looks?” Rey snapped out of it and began scrubbing again.  


“Um...no, I haven’t thought of names yet.” She was still shocked at the woman’s interest. Was she attempting...friendship? Rey hadn’t had that since Ky...and Finn and 

Poe...Poe was rekindling friendship...but Finn had left, possibly forever, and she might never see Ky again. Her stomach twisted. She had no idea how to be friends. “I’m only five weeks along…” She muttered. She hadn’t even started showing yet...why would she have a name picked out?  


“Six, by my reckoning.” The zabrak flashed a white grin and winked, “And I’ m never wrong.”  


“Never?” Rey raised an eyebrow at her reproachfully.  


“Never.” She shook her head definitively. “I’m perfect. An angel. The embodiment of flawless absolution.”  


A disbelieving laugh bubbled up from Rey’s throat and she grinned.  


“Does it hurt?” The other woman raised a sharp brow.  


“What?” Rey turned off the shower head and began to towel down.  


“You’re face.” The zabrack began to dry as well. “You smiled and I was just wondering if it hurt your face or anything.”  


Rey smiled softly at that. A bittersweet smile. One that grinned at the irony the zabrak had pointed out, but equally was softened by the memory of a similar conversation she’d had with her mate….about his cynical perspective of life. The zabrack held up her hands in surrender. "Not commenting on smiles. Got it. Smiles bad...well...maybe not smiles, but smile talk bad. Got it. Don’t worry, I’m a quick learner. I’ll figure it out!”  


Rey snorted and rolled her eyes, at she pulled her pants on.  


The zabrak dressed alongside her and as they pulled their shirts over their heads she asked.  


“You want a drink? I’ll buy.”  


“Sure--” Rey started and then a hand flew to her still flat stomach. “No! I mean, nevermind, no thanks.”  


“Good choice.” the zabrak nodded approvingly.  


“Were you…?” Rey stared at her incredulously, “Where you testing me?”  


The other woman shrugged unashamedly. “I’m a medic. I do what I want.”  


Rey snorted as she shouldered her clothing bag, “Sounds like one of Finn’s bad T-shirt ideas.”  


“I want one!” The woman exclaimed. “I need one! On the front: I’ m a medic on the back: I do what I want. Yes! I need it! Holiday must-wish. Oh, yes!”  


Rey braided her hair in one long braid down her back and shook her head in quiet mirth as she left.  


“Wait!” the medic called after her, rushing up to her side, “So drink’s a no, but dinner? Baby’s gotta eat too.” She raised her eyebrows to sell the bit.  


“It’s 1:00 a.m. and I don’t even remember your name.” Rey shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all.  


“I was like the first person you met in like seven years and you don’t even remember my name? Wow, I should have double checked for a head injury.”  


“I met other people!” Rey insisted, “Traders and, barterers, and...people…” She sighed at the pitiful defense. “Besides, I wasn’t really in the state of mind to be making friends.” She muttered, remembering the horrific sensation of being cleaved in two...the emptiness that she had only now begin to bear with any sort of dignity.  


“Fair enough.” Ophi shrugged. “I’d offer to get you drunk over it and we could laugh and cry together about our life problems...but your mate insured that you--” she pointed at Rey, “Should not be getting drunk. Not for another couple of months.” Rey rolled her eyes, “Oh, yeah, and don’t stress either, cause it’s bad for babies.”  


Rey stared at her blankly rage just beginning to simmer. Don’t stress? Don’t worry? It’s only that your other half is halfway across the universe dead at the hands of his worst nightmares or being torn apart by them. It’s only that your child is somewhere in the vast expanse of space; alone and vulnerable to whomever might have an interest in a small, weak child who had no one to defend him. It’s only that the galaxy insisted on tearing itself apart in some new gruesome war generation after generation. Oh, by the way, don’t stress or you'll mess up your second kid too. She opened her mouth in a snarl.  


“Ahh! MadRey is worse than SadRey! Just kidding! A joke! Funny! Haha!... Not funny. Not at all. Who would make such an insensitive joke?! Me?! What?! No! I would never! I’m against...jokes...got it. Baby jokes: bad. No baby jokes...yo’ mama jokes? Those cool? You good with those? Cause let me tell you, after the mother that I had? I’ve got some good ones! Here let me show you!--” And the zabrak continued that way all the way to the mess hall. Rey was too dazed by the sheer about of chatter that was coming from the woman. Their child said more than Ky and Rey combined, and she was unaccustomed to adult conversation...though this hardly counted.  


She did enjoy the food though...and grudgingly...the company. It felt good to not be alone. At least for these few hours in the deep of the night...when the hours were longest and the silence heaviest. She was clean, and she was full, and she laughed some. She was...almost content in that moment. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT!!!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what your all thinking! :) please comment :)
> 
> **Disclaimer: If they are related this is and Alternate universe where they're NOT. I'm not in to that sorta stuff ;)
> 
> -D.


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